Chipping Away The Ice
by truglasgowgal
Summary: Irina always knew one day he would break, that one day his ice wall would be slowly chipped away and he would shatter into a million pieces – she just never expected it to happen in such a way as it did.
1. Everything I Do I Do It For You

Title: Chipping Away At The Ice  
Rating: PG-13 I guess but then it mite be higher later on, not really sure sorry  
Disclaimer: I think you all know the drill by now; only those characters I've made up belong to me, the rest all belong to J.J.Abrams and his people yada yada yada…  
A/N: This takes place right after we last saw Sark in S4 – though since I haven't seen much of that season and beyond, things may go askew – just use your imaginations! ;)  
Summary: Irina always knew one day he would break; that one day his ice wall would be slowly chipped away and he would shatter into a million pieces – she just never expected it to happen in such a way as it did.

* * *

Part One: Everything I Do, I Do It For You  
**Look into my eyes  
You will see, what you mean to me  
Search your heart, search your soul  
And when you find me there, you'll search no more **

Don't tell me it's not worth trying for  
You can't tell me it's not worth dying for  
You know it's true, everything I do, I do it for you

Look into your heart, you will find  
There's nothing there to hide  
so, take me as I am, take my life  
I would give it all, I would sacrifice

Don't tell me it's not worth fighting for  
I can't help it, There's nothing I want more  
You know it's true, everything I do, I do it for you

Ohhhh

Irina didn't even glance up at him when he entered, merely stating, "You're late."

He stood before her, hands in the pockets of his suit trousers, with a smirk on his face, "You're stunning."

She rolled her eyes then, but allowed her lips to tug up at the corners slightly, as she raised her head, "You're forgiven."

Irina closed her laptop, and stood up moving round her desk to embrace the man before her, "I missed you … we both have."

He pulled away, his face now one of complete seriousness, "How is she?"

A smile formed on Irina's face then, "She's fine, better than fine, she's great – but she misses you."

He nodded solemnly, "I wish I didn't have to be apart from her for so long."

Irina placed her finger under his chin tilting his chin upwards so he faced her once more, "The important thing is that you're here now."

He nodded, knowing in his heart that she was right, but still not feeling entirely 'alright' with the situation as a whole.

"She knows why you can't be here with her all the time, she understands that you are doing all this to protect her; she knows everything and she still loves you unconditionally – Now I'd say that was cause enough to do this, wouldn't you?" Irina said, smiling a little at him, and he nodded.

"Go and see her", she told him, "She's in her room, and I'm sure she'd love to see you."

He nodded once again, a small smile peeking from his lips, as he started moving towards the door of the study. His hand was on the doorknob, already twisted, when he turned back to her and said, "Thank-you, Irina – for everything."

And she simply smiled, "You're welcome."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jack Bristow walked through the hall, his gait revealing nothing of his tentativeness with each step, and his demeanour apparently one of casualness – though only somewhat, he was still Jack Bristow after all, he needed to uphold some form of his usual cold, stoic nature. He took the next right, and pushed open the partially ajar door, stepping into the kitchen. But suddenly noticing the other figure before him, he stopped mid-step.

They turned round to face him, their hands still working with whatever substance was contained in the bowl before them, as they stood on a small stool, leaning over the large wooden table.

"Hi", they greeted him simply, with a smile.

Despite the circumstances of finding this person standing in his … wife's kitchen, coated in what appeared to be some sort of coloured liquid (despite the apron covering them), and a shiny substance splattered all over the table, Jack's face remained blank.

"Who are you?" he asked the female, who had gone back to 'working' on whatever it was she had been doing before Jack had entered.

"What do you do for a living?" she countered after a moment of relative silence, her voice flittering softly through the air.

"Why?" Jack responded, "So you can pretend like you're interested?"

A smile appeared on her face then, "Did you know that by mixing equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?"

"Really?" Jack kept his voice impassive, though he was silently eyeing up the various spillages and matter scattered around them with a sudden peaked interest, "And why are you telling me this?"

The female licked her lips a little then, as her grin intensified, "One could make all sorts of explosives using common household items ... "

"Is that so?" Jack replied, his voice still void of, well pretty much all, emotion.

" ... If one were so inclined", she finished off.

And turning to face him then, extending her arm towards him, she said simply, "Avalon."

He eyed her hand up then, and she laughed, "I'm not suddenly going to grow another hand and slap you across the head with it!"

His eyes narrowed slightly then, but it seemed to have no effect on her – _guess it shouldn't;_ he rationalized; _she does live in the same house as Irina Derevko after all_. So he resigned to the fact that either she already knew who he was and was simply being polite – though it was quite an odd display of respect, but again living with Irina Derevko could do that to you, he supposed – or she had no idea at all of his identity. True, this was doubtful, but possible all the same, he mused, depending on how much his wife told her.

And so he extended his arm and took her hand in his, "Jack Bristow."

Then another voice called from the doorway, "I see you two have finally met."

Jack spun round, his eyes forming the familiar Bristow glare, as he gritted out, "What are you doing … and here?"

His head cocked to the side, in a smirk, but he didn't say anything in return.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Suddenly the kitchen door burst open and Irina had her gun out and cocked before Jack could even blink.

His smirk grew at the sight, and without even glancing at the gun, he commented, "It's good to see you're still in perfect shape, Irina – wouldn't want old age to hold you back, after all."

She shook her head at his response, silently laughing.

"Sark", she replied, lowering her weapon to her side, "You'd be lying on the kitchen floor shot dead if I hadn't caught my reflexes in time – old age indeed!"

He smirked then, and another voice piped up, "Are you fishing for compliments, Aunt Rina?"

Irina spun round and smiled at the figure by Sark's side, and eyeing up the various objects lying askew on the counter, she commented, "Back to our old self now I see?"

And she simply grinned, nodding her head enthusiastically, as Sark put his arm round her small waist and tugged her into him.

"She's your daughter?" Jack questioned angrily, finally interpreting the missing links here, as rage overtook him suddenly.

A burning sensation was sent pricking into his chest, as if he was somehow surprised or hurt by the omission on Irina's part. He knew he shouldn't have been annoyed, God knows he would have done the same, _had _done – with Sydney – but for some reason he felt they'd moved passed that. Obviously he was wrong.

"No, we just pretend", Sark retorted, rolling his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcasm, while the child giggled from his side, and he glanced down at her, a smile on his lips.

The look they shared; that between a father and his daughter.

**There's no love, like your love  
And no other, could give more love  
There's nowhere, unless you're there  
All the time, all the way **

Look into your heart, babe.

Ohh, you can't tell me it's not worth trying for  
I can't help it, there's nothing I want more...  
Yea, I'd fight for you, I'd lie for you  
Walk the wire for you, yeah I'd die for you...

You know it's true  
Everything I do  
ooooh  
I do it for you

* * *

Quotes: "You're late." "You're stunning." "You're forgiven". – Pretty Woman  
"What do you do for a living?" "Why?…So you can pretend like you're interested?" – Fight Club  
"Did you know that by mixing equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?" "Really?" "One could make all sorts of explosives using common household items..." "...if one were so inclined" – Fight Club  
"What are you doing…and here?" – Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
Song: 'Everything I Do (I Do It For You)' by Brian Adams

Hope you liked it, an please lemme know whatcha think - Comments, are much appreciated!  
I know it's confusing, but it evens out soon enough (I think :blush: )  
Thanks  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	2. Anywhere But Here

Part Two: Anywhere But Here  
**When I'm in a crowd  
Or on an island by myself  
Silent or too loud  
Wishing I was somewhere else  
And I can't believe  
You hit me fast and hard  
When you turn to me and say  
Never change the way you are **

Trying to catch your eye  
Things will never look the same  
Now I can't deny  
You're the moth and I'm the flame  
There I go again  
I should walk before I run  
How can I explain  
I can't stop what you've begun

"Hopefully Jack's anger will go away soon", Sark commented as he sat on a stool by the breakfast bar, taking a spoonful of his cereal, and deliberately crunching loudly so as to 'tick off' Irina; and sending a smile to his daughter who was seated on the stool next to him, with a large bowl of her own in front of her, but hers containing ice-cream and jelly, and covered in a thick coating of whipped cream.

"He's not angry, he just doesn't like you – nothing unique there." Irina replied, with a sweet smile, and he just shook his head, laughing as the little girl joined in giggling.

A short while later, and 'the man of the moment' walked into the room, his head subtly surveying the area and noting that the mess from earlier had since been cleaned up, leaving the kitchen with a much … tidier (and more sanitary, in Jack's opinion) appearance.

"So … ", Jack started, and all eyes shot towards the elder man's figure.

"So … ", Sark replied, clearly amused by Jack and Irina's silent 'stand-off'.

Jack spun round to glare at the younger man, whose smirk was spread widely across his face, but when he caught the stifle of laughter from Sark's right, he had to fight to keep up his impassive look, much like earlier.

And then Jack did the strangest thing; he looked straight at the figure to Sark's side, and said simply, "Well, let's see you then."

Her face scrunched up a little at this, and Irina laughed, "He wants you to stand before him, Avalon."

She turned to Sark then, a questioning glance mingled with her clear thoughts of absurdity seen on her features, but he simply smirked, putting his hand on top of her head, as he said, "Humour the old man, darling."

Avalon laughed, and placed her bowl on the tabletop before jumping down off her seat, and making her way round the side of the breakfast bar to stand in front of the elder man. With a grin on her face, she glanced at her father again, before placing her arms behind her back and clasping her hands together. She smiled up at Jack, rocking back and forth on her heels, and patiently awaiting his 'inspection'.

**I'm falling through the door  
Flying 'cross the floor  
When you look at me suddenly it's clear **

You're burning up my dreams  
Crazy as it seems  
I don't wanna be anywhere but here  
Anywhere but here

She was the spitting image of the younger man; _This is perfect!_ Jack thought to himself, _A female embodiment of Sark; just what we all need!_

Her light blonde hair was pulled back loosely from her face and tied in a single braid that fell about a third of the way down her back. She had tanned skin, making her vibrant cobalt eyes stand out even more, (hinting to Jack that she spent much of her time in a far warmer climate than where they were at present) and an innocent little smile that shone throughout the whole room. Her intellect was evident in the old soul that lingered behind her sky blue irises, but her true childish nature was revealed by her light blue t-shirt she was wearing that displayed the image of fruit with the slogan 'Raspberry Ripple', in pink letters, and the matching cherry shorts that cut half way down her calves.

"How old are you, Avalon?" Jack asked her.

"Eight", she replied simply.

"A little on the small side isn't she, Sark?" Jack commented to the younger man.

But his lips were quirked up into a smile as he added, "Though it's hardly surprising given the drivel you're feeding her."

"Ice cream and jelly is not drivel!" Avalon's voice suddenly piped up, and Jack's eyes trailed back to her small form, where she stood before him; hands on her hips and a defiant pout on her face.

"I beg your pardon, but there is no nutritional value whatsoever in what your father is feeding you", Jack told her.

"So", she answered simply, and she quickly hopped back onto her stool, taking another spoonful of the food and commenting with a grin, "It tastes nice!"

Irina laughed again from the other side of the room, and Jack looked over at her as she noted, "Well you can't argue with that Jack."

To which he simply shook his head, rolling his eyes at her behaviour.

**What goes on inside  
Is a mystery no doubt  
A roller coaster ride  
I may never work it out  
Here's the brand new me  
Skates around and floats on air  
I'm a sight to see  
Rainbow colours in my hair  
You have set me free  
The one who gets me there **

I'm falling through the door  
Flying 'cross the floor  
When you look at me suddenly it's clear

**You're burning up my dreams  
Crazy as it seems  
I don't wanna be anywhere but here  
Anywhere but here**

"Why didn't you tell me Irina? Why didn't you tell me this was what it was really about?" Jack spoke the words carefully, but she could still detect his underlying anger.

"Would you have told me?" she asked, though they both already knew the answer.

And so when he didn't respond she continued, "And if I had told you? What would you have done?"

His eyes narrowed a little at her then, because again both knew what would have eventually occurred had she told him earlier, "I didn't tell you Jack, because I had no reason to. She's Sark's daughter, not mine, and I highly doubt he was suddenly about to run out and inform a 'high ranking member of the CIA' of her existence don't you?"

"How long has she been staying with you?" he asked after a moment of pause.

"She stays with me on and off. Depending on my workload, as well as Sark's, she can be here for months at a time, or days – it just depends", she told him, quite vaguely.

And sensing his uncertainty she reassured, "But no matter where she is, Jack, she is always safe. Sark would never let anything happen to her, he does everything in his power to protect her, and more – surely you can understand that."

Jack nodded, he did understand, more so than he felt Irina could. The mother bears the child in their womb for nine months, and so naturally she feels a special bond to her child; but the father – the father has to _create_ that special bond with their child. He knew he hadn't been a great father to Sydney, but they were beginning to overcome that, certain areas in particular, and what he saw in Sark; was a younger version of himself, and he'd be damned if he stood by and watched Sark make the same mistakes he had – no matter what criminal acts the man was known for, Avalon shouldn't be made to suffer as a result.

**Here is the place where  
My head is spinning  
Time is beginning  
To race away  
You come to throw me  
Knock me off my feet  
You give me wings to fly  
The world goes crashing by again  
**

**I'm falling through the door  
Flying 'cross the floor  
When you look at me suddenly it's clear**

Jack left Irina in her study working on something, as usual, as he went in search of the young Brit. For some reason, Jack had this overwhelming urge to help him, to make sure his daughter received all she could from her father. Sure, he knew all about Sark, and was far from happy with his 'dealings', but he also knew that the smile that was on that little girl's face earlier that day, when he had found her in the kitchen, certainly wasn't guided at Irina.

He wasn't sure where he was going exactly, he and Irina had left the two earlier to go and discuss various matters of importance in her office. Irina had joked about the various things Sark was probably doing with her then, as they walked the short distance to her room, so he took to just wandering aimlessly round the 'house', occasionally peeking into different rooms and such for any sign of either of the two blondes. Then he heard it. Or rather, he heard _her_. And the unmistakable sound of laughter.

Slowly pushing open the kitchen door, his actions currently mirroring those of earlier, he soon came face to face with one of the strangest and most unexpected sights ever: Sark, and his 8-year-old daughter, baking.

He stood stunned for a moment, just taking in the scene before him. Avalon was standing by Sark's side on the small stool again; an apron tied securely round her waist, as she leant over a large ceramic bowl, grinning up at him when he entered.

Sark brought him out of his reverie, however, as he said, "Care to join us Jack?"

And the elder man's gaze flittered between the two hands that Sark was holding up in front of him, which were covered in a mixture of various substances; the scattering of objects and materials lying awry across the counter; and the little girl's apron, which was also coated with the matter.

Then his eyes landed once more on Sark, as the blonde's lopsided grin shone back at him, and he proclaimed proudly, "We're making cakes!"

Jack sighed to himself, as he watched the younger man suddenly splodge a dollop of mixture onto his daughter's nose, before receiving a splatter in return that dripped all the way down his, no doubt, expensive shirt and dribbled down the front of his own apron – which Avalon had conveniently missed in her aiming. Shaking his head a little and looking off to the side, _silently_ laughing to himself as he watched the two, something suddenly dawned on Jack then.

Sark and Avalon looked at each other, matching smiles caressing their features, and there was really no one else in the world but them.

And in that moment Jack realized, that whatever anyone thought of Sark; whether it be a 'cocky British son of a bitch', or simply a 'backstabbing terrorist with a tendency to foil the CIA's plans at every opportunity'; the only thing that really mattered to him was that his daughter was safe, and happy – and because of that, she would forever be the one that possessed Julian Sark's heart and soul; not to mention his loyalty.

**You're burning up my dreams  
Crazy as it seems  
I don't wanna be anywhere but here  
Anywhere but here**

**I'm falling through the door  
Flying 'cross the floor  
When you look at me suddenly it's clear**

**You're burning up my dreams  
Crazy as it seems  
I don't wanna be anywhere but here  
Anywhere but here

* * *

**

Quotes: "Hopefully Jack's anger will go away soon." "He's not angry, he just doesn't like you – nothing unique there!" – varied version from House.  
Song: 'Anywhere But Here' by Hilary Duff

Hope you liked it and please let me know what you think - Means a lot!  
Thanks  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	3. Little Moments Like That

Part Three – Little Moments Like That  
**Well I'll never forget the first time that I heard  
That pretty mouth say that dirty word  
And I can't even remember now, what she backed my truck into  
But she covered her mouth and her face got red and she just looked so darn cute  
That I couldn't even act like I was mad-  
Yeah I live for little moments like that  
**

Irina sat in her study, idling flicking through some photographs. These were the few she dared to keep; they were the treasured few. She smiled at the various memories conjured by the pictures. The first picture was taken when Sydney was young, and Jack was pushing her on a swing in the park, and they were both 'all smiles' as they happily carried on oblivious to her and the camera in her hand. There were a couple more like them; her daughter and her husband playing away contently … and then there were those of Avalon and Sark. Surprisingly, she and Sark both stashed away pictures of their little girl's – memories keeping those special times alive, but caution shielding the images from plain view.

Her smile widened for a moment as she came upon a photo of Jack with Sydney sitting upon his knee as she stared up at him with a dimpled smile and he read a story to her from the large book held securely in his lap in front of her. A single tear slid down her cheek then, as she brought up a picture of Sark and Avalon, their actions nearly identically mirroring those of her husband and daughter, and held the two side by side.

They were more alike than they knew.

**  
That's like just last year on my birthday  
She lost all track of time and burnt the cake  
And every smoke detector in the house was going off  
She was just about the cry  
Until I took her in my arms  
And I tried not to let her see, me laugh-  
Yeah I live for little moments like that  
**

Somehow, the cause _completely_ unbeknownst to him, Jack soon found himself cracking eggs, pouring liquid and beating away at the mixture within another large ceramic bowl – though rather arduously he noted compared to the child by his side – while Sark went off to get changed out of his, now completely ruined, shirt.

After a short while, a silence fell within the kitchen, and for some reason Jack felt the need to rid them of it, so he glanced at the little girl – furiously mixing away at their concoction with a metal whisk – and asked with a raised eyebrow, "So is this what you do all day then? Bake cakes?"

She giggled then, shaking her head, and prolonging the word for effect, she answered, "No! I learn things too."

"Really?" Jack asked, making sure his voice didn't show too much interest as to suspect, but enough to satisfy an eight-year-old girl, "What kinds of things?"

"Lots of things", came Avalon's simple innocent reply, as she suddenly began scooping the mixture out of the bowl and onto an awaiting tray, full of frilly paper cups.

Jack had to admit, he was curious as to what this girl actually knew, not to mention the kinds of things a terrorist and his mentor teach his daughter, but he held back for the moment, deciding to edge his way into it – she was still a child after all. Certain factors about her reminded him all too much of Sydney when she was young, and he would be damned if he repeated his actions on Avalon; not least because of what Irina would do to him, but he felt Sark would feel a _tad_ more strongly on the subject than his wife – and he just didn't feel like a shoot-out with the young man at the moment.

"And do you stay here often?" Jack said, still making sure his tone was … somewhat conversational.

"Mostly yeah, but not always – I like it here though, we get real snow in winter, and the seasons aren't all backwards like in Australia", she replied, tuning round to face him, and giving him a quick smile.

"You live in Australia?" Jack said quickly, this information suddenly bringing him out of his reverie as he observed in interest while she placed the tray into the large oven, before closing the door and stepping back – a look of triumph on her little face.

"Well, not _right now_, but yeah", Avalon smiled, turning round to face him and nodding her head, "We've got a big house there, it's fun cos I get to play on the beach a lot, and I get to swim in the sea all the time too."

"Well, that's good. I take it you like to swim then?" Jack asked, suddenly becoming more aware of the way he was speaking then than ever.

"Yup!" Avalon answered enthusiastically, hopping back onto the stool to stand up beside him.

"Mummy taught me when I was younger, and Daddy says I'm really good; I can even beat him in the indoor pool – he's pretty slow!" she added with a small flash of a grin.

He smiled _a little_ then and watched her dip her finger into the basin and begin to scoop the remnants of the cake mixture into her mouth.

Taking in her physical appearance then, he supposed it made sense. Her skin was tanned – the pigmentation browned to the point that it was obvious she spent a considerable amount of time in a country other than that which they were currently residing. Australia fitted the criteria. But he was still curious as to the other places she spent time in. Her accent, which had a far more noticeable twang of the Irish than Sark's, was intriguing. There were hints of other nationalities in her voice also, and he could tell she was an expert in enunciation when it came to the speaking other languages. It raised the question in his mind of how many languages the eight-year-old could actually speak already, but moreover; was Irina preparing the girl for her own survival or to be her next protégée?

Smiling at the child then as she turned round to flash him a grin from her position, perched over the large bowl and scraping away all the leftovers onto her fingers, licking it off favourably; he asked, "So you move around quite a lot then?"

"We have a basic strategy, Jack", Sark's voice suddenly joined in.

And Jack turned to face him, as the younger man told him, "If your enemies know where you are, then don't be there."

**I know she's not perfect, but she tries so hard for me  
And I thank God that she isn't  
Cause how boring would that be?  
It's the little imperfections; it's the sudden change in plans  
When she misreads the directions and we're lost  
But holding hands-  
Yeah I live for little moments like that**

"Ah, I see she let you christen the new batch then?" Sark said with an amused smirk as he eyed up the mess all over the table and the older man's appearance – complete with colourful apron tied securely round his waist – and he secretly wondered how he would be able to take Jack Bristow seriously ever again.

"Well done Jack", Sark told him, as he outstretched his arms, "You passed the initiation."

But as Jack glared, the elder's scrutinized gaze failed to penetrate, and Sark continued, "You're one of the family now!"

And his smirk grew then at the increased intensity of the Bristow glare he was being subjected to, and then, hearing a small snicker, he turned to face his daughter.**  
**

"Look at the state of you!" Sark said with a roll of the eyes and a smile, standing before his daughter, "You're covered in this stuff – did you manage to make any cakes at all, or is all the mixture on you?"

She giggled in return, and shrugged her shoulders up, giving him an innocent smile, to which he shook his head saying with a smile, "Come on you."

And he held his arms outstretched before him, "Let's go get you cleaned up before Irina has a heart attack with the mess you've made."

Reaching out towards him, Sark lifted her up taking her in his arms and started carrying her towards the door.

When they reached the threshold, Avalon held up a hand dripping in chocolate mix and, beaming at Jack, she called out simply, "Bye!"

He nodded in return, the smallest essence of a smile lingering on his lips as he did so. But he couldn't help the short laugh that broke out the moment she and Sark had left the room as he heard Avalon laughing, and then the Brit's voice suddenly exclaim, "Hey! Keep your grubby little paws away from my clean shirt, Missy."

**  
When she's laying on my shoulder, on the sofa, in the dark  
And about the time she falls asleep, so does my right arm  
And I want so bad to move it, cause its tingling and its numb  
But she looks so much like an angel,  
That I don't wanna wake her up-  
Yeah I live for little moments-  
When she steals my heart again and doesn't even know it-  
Yeah I live for little moments like that**

Jack entered the living room later that night to find he wasn't alone. He immediately noticed Sark's head peeking up from the sofa and the tufts of blonde hair flickering in the light of the vigorous fireplace. The Brit raised his head and turned it slightly upon Jack's entrance, but didn't say anything. Jack took a few steps forward, moving silently closer towards the large armchair positioned to the left, but as he sat down, he soon found something stirring within him when he set eyes on the sight before him.

Sark was sitting on the couch, with Avalon curled up into him sleeping soundly, and a blanket lying softly over her small form as a smile lingered on her lips and the light of the fire danced across her gentle features. He had an arm wrapped securely round her, as he played affectionately with her hair, twirling the light soft strands between his fingers, and a subtle smile on his face. And he was looking down at the child, with what could only be described as … love.

It was a word Jack would never have even _considered_ associating with a man like Sark, but then watching him and his daughter interact that day made him realise, that this was not the same man who they all thought they knew; this was a different man entirely. And still, as he sat down across from the two, watching the man sitting before him staring at his little girl with a heart swelling in pride, he couldn't quite fathom the idea; that Julian Sark was capable of the most powerful emotion known to man – but he knew it made all the difference between the man he truly was, and the man they thought him to be.

Sark was still watching his daughter when, after a few moments, and speaking the words quietly, he asked, "Do you know what kept me going while I was CIA custody, Jack? How I coped with all those days and nights in solitary? Why I didn't go mad when I was alone in the darkness for so long?"

And the older man simply stood silent.

A sad, lingering smile flittered across Sark's face then, as he placed a soft hand on his daughter's face and swept some loose locks of her blonde hair to the side, and said simply, "It was her eyes."

He looked up at Jack then with a look of amazement reflected in his irises as he told him, "Because I could look into her eyes and be forever enchanted."

* * *

Song: 'Little Moments Like That' by Brad Paisley

Please lemme know what you thought - all comments, good or bad are appreciated!  
Thanks  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	4. Am I Ever Gonna Find Out

Part Four – Am I Ever Gonna Find Out  
**Silence is golden  
But I think it's gonna kill me now  
Everything I've seen  
Never seems to fail me now  
No one told me that the world could fall through yeah**

As soon as he caught sight of the phone leaving Irina's ear, he immediately prompted, "Well?"

Turning slowly to face him, Jack could already tell it had been confirmed, but still as she spoke, his face fell slightly. Anna Espinosa's escape from CIA custody had proved to be a far more burdensome act than first expected.

And though Irina's words were carefully chosen and showed no sign of any mistake, when she was finished Jack couldn't help but ask, "Are you certain?"

Irina glowered at him, "Lying to you now serves me no purpose, Jack."

"It wasn't the truth I was questioning; it was the accuracy", Jack answered, but without any of the expected rancour that should have been expected to accompany such a retort.

"It is both true, and accurate," Irina replied simply.

"Well then I guess we need to tell him", Jack answered, after a moment of silence.

"Unless he already knows", a voice spoke from the doorway, and all eyes immediately shot to the figure.

"Who are you?" Jack asked the man immediately, annoyed by the sudden intrusion.

"Jack", Irina said warningly, and placed a hand on his forearm to calm him, a gesture that certainly wasn't lost on him, before taking a step forward.

And standing by the male's side, she told him, "Jack, this is Mars Korovich – he is a good friend of Sark's … and mine."

**In between this am I gonna find a way  
To defeat this living inside yesterday  
I'm alive I think it's time to live  
Like I am  
Am I ever gonna find it  
Am I ever gonna find it  
Am I ever gonna find out**

Jack merely eyed the man up warily, before questioning, "Does Sark know what is going on?"

"Well, he'd be a fool if he didn't", Mars responded quickly.

But after a quick threatening glance from Irina, and one of the famous Bristow glare's from Jack, he coughed a little and added, "It's most likely that Sark knows, yeah."

"You know", Sark's British drawl suddenly filled the air, "I don't know if I'm insulted or flattered by that comment, Mari."

Jack's eyes moved across to where the younger man stood casually leaning against the doorway.

"How long have you been standing there?" Irina asked.

"Long enough", Sark responded, pushing off the frame and striding towards them, smirking, "Old age indeed Irina."

She rolled her eyes at his answer, but then they were all business.

"What do you suggest we do, Sark?" Jack asked.

And the younger's gaze turned towards him with questioning in his eyes, for which Jack clarified, "She is _your _daughter after all."

The Brit let out a low short laugh then, looking down at the floor, before bringing his gaze back up to Jack's as he said, "You can do what you like Jack. But as for me? I'm going to kill the bastards."

And at that he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

"Well that went well!" Mars' voice interjected after the blonde had left.

Irina just looked at him, frowning at his false grin, and he returned one of his own, dropping the smile, and replying just as passionately, "Oh come on, Irina, you didn't seriously expect him to just sit back while you sent in some team of unknown agents to sort it all out, did you? You know he'd never go for that – especially not after what happened last time."

And at that, Jack and Irina were once again left in the room by themselves.

**Patience can wait for now  
I think I've waited for too long  
You always gave a choice  
Well I know right to be wrong  
All my life has been slipping through your hands yeah **

In between this am I gonna find a way  
To defeat this living inside yesterday  
I'm alive I think it's time to live  
Like I am  
Am I ever gonna find it  
Am I ever gonna find it  
Am I ever gonna find out

"What did he mean? What happened last time?" Jack questioned her almost instantly.

Sighing, Irina said simply, "He's right."

And she completely avoided Jack's questions even further, as she turned away from him and walked over to the window to look out at the gardens below.

His eyes narrowed, and he prompted her with a swift, "Irina."

She ignored him, placing a hand upon the cold windowpane and watching as the rain splattered off the cool glass.

"Irina", Jack pressed again.

After a moment of silence, he moved behind her and spun her round, his hands firmly on her shoulders as he shook her saying, "Irina, what happened? What aren't you telling me?"

It was then he noticed the tears. She was crying. And for once, he didn't assume this to be some sort of ploy or turn at manipulation – for once; Irina Derevko was truly upset.

"I made a mistake" she spoke the words quietly, "A stupid mistake – and it cost me dearly; it cost us all dearly."

He lowered his head to hers and asked in a softer voice, "What happened Irina? What did you do?"

Irina lifted her head then to face him and said, "I miscalculated and made a grave human error."

And pulling away from him then she turned back to face outside, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared out at the rain.

"It was four years ago when it happened", she started.

And she let out a short bitter laugh as she added, "In fact it's one of the reason's Sark came to your attention when he did."

Then after a few seconds, she continued, "I had found out about a group – an organization I suppose I should really call them. They had discovered Sark's existence sooner than I had planned, and realized his importance to me – not just to my business, but to me personally. I thought I had eliminated them all."

And she bowed her head, as she said quietly, "I was wrong."

**In between this am I gonna find a way  
To defeat this living inside yesterday  
I'm alive I think it's time to live  
Like I am  
Am I ever gonna find it  
Am I ever gonna find it  
Am I ever gonna find out**

She kept her head low, but spoke in a louder clearer tone, "They stormed the church. It was Kyla's wedding day – she was getting married to Mars."

And recognition flittered past Jack's eyes then for a moment, as she continued, "They killed her … her, Eden and Aleksei. The organization, Jack, which _I_ thought I'd eradicated, killed Sark's wife, sister, and his infant son; and nearly did the same to Avalon."

Raising her head then, but not turning, she continued, "I made a mistake that day – I let a man live; I told Sark he would serve as an example to others, when in fact he turned round and shot his four-year-old son in the chest at point blank range."

"The bullet went through Aleksei's chest, and … lodged itself in Avalon's. Aleksei died, but Avalon lived – he saved her life", and a sad smile emerged on Irina's face at that, before it vanished, and she swept the trickle of tears away.

She cleared her throat and carried on, "The next day when I woke by Avalon's side, Sark was sitting in the chair opposite – and I knew he'd done what I was meant to. He destroyed that company Jack, and every remaining link to it. He did what I was supposed to, but even then it had already happened – we couldn't bring them back – and I realized my mistake too late."

Then, turning to face her husband, Irina told him, "Sark may be many things Jack, and neither he nor I would ever deny that, but he is a father – just like you – and he would do anything to protect his daughter; even die for her."

Moving closer towards him, she looked him straight in the eyes as she spoke, "He is going to need your help if he wants to succeed in this Jack. Neither of us particularly wants to be thrown into custody again, but we will – if it means Ava will be safe. He'll even go so far as give up this life for her Jack; even you can't claim that. Sark is not about to let the same thing happen again – he won't let them do this without a fight, and he needs you to help him win it, Jack."

**In between this am I gonna find a way  
To defeat this living inside yesterday  
I'm alive I think it's time to live  
Like I am  
Am I ever gonna find it  
Am I ever gonna find it  
Am I ever gonna find out**

And she left him alone in her study, staring out at the rain battering down off the glass – much like she'd been previously. Both knew what had to be done, but she had to leave him to do it alone; it wouldn't bode well for the CIA if they didn't detect a message from a terrorist after all – especially one that was supposed to be dead.

And as she left, he let out a breath, and dialled the number, "Sydney, I need you to do something for me."

* * *

Song: 'Am I Ever Gonna Find Out' by Lifehouse

Hope you liked it, an please lemme know what you thought!  
Thanks  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	5. Secrets

Part Five – Secrets  
**In the dark  
In the darkness you will find  
Dirty little secrets we all hide  
Cause' we all have a darker side  
A place we keep where no one else will find**

It had all gone wrong. Every fucking bit of it. And now he was paying the price once again.

Anna was scheduled to arrive the next day at the facility 1pm sharp. She was early. Or rather – they came just too late. She had teamed up with those responsible for her escape en route to federal penitentiary, and by the time Jack and the others moved in on them, she had already wreaked havoc.

Gunfire was erupting all around, as those associated with Anna tried to ward off resistance from Irina's team. Jack sought out shelter behind a stonewall structure, firing off round after round at the opposition, as dust and debris fell from the roof and side panels all around him. Taking note of the increased resistance situated before one particular section of the opposite wall, Jack and Irina glanced over at one another and shared a knowing look. There was something behind there. Or more importantly; _someone_

They had made a silent pact, and now they were acting on it.

Irina spoke into her comm. informing the rest of their new plans, before they nodded briefly to one another, and in a split second, both Irina and Jack had spun round, moved out to the side of their pillar – which had previously shielded them – and begun firing off round-after-round at their 'opposition', as they edged their way forward and towards their intended target.

**Cause' everybody wants to hide their secrets away  
Nobody wants to stand up to the pain  
But I will stand up to the pain  
Wake up and fight again  
If you could dance with me through this rain  
And we will fight, we'll fight again, fight again**

Irina reached the door first, and after a quick glance at Jack and a nod for her to continue, she crept round the, previously heavily protected, doorway with a handful of her own men. Taking their positions stealthily behind the various bundles of crates and large columns, Irina's breath suddenly caught in her throat at the sight before her.

She wasn't supposed to be there. The green-and-white hooped jersey she wore was testament enough to the fact they had other plans arranged to keep her out of harms way, not to mention the pink and white fluffy toy elephant held firmly in her grasp which dictated just how incongruous her figure seemed in a room full of killers with guns. Plus, the huge scowl present on her face that she had directed straight towards Anna and the other team members was enough to show anybody within a good distance from her that she was anything but happy with the situation they had put her in.

"Oh God, Jack", Irina breathed out, pressing her comm. link.

And listening as her husband's worried voice came through almost immediately asking what was wrong, she simply replied, "Avalon's here."

As this news reached Jack on the other side of the stone wall, he knew in that exact moment what his wife intended to do; and he could only pray that she would escape unscathed.

It took her a split second to decide what she was going to do. And then Irina was up, out from behind her hiding place, and walking calmly towards Anna and the others. All eyes, not to mention firearms, turned towards her as she stepped forward.

"Irina Derevko", Anna's accented voice played through, "It is an honour to have you here, I'm sure."

Irina locked eyes with the woman replying, "What are you doing Anna? Kidnapping a child in the hope to get back at her father? – To bait him with her life? A tad archaic, wouldn't you say? Not to mention unoriginal."

Anna laughed, "On the contrary Irina."

And the elder woman's eyes narrowed slightly at this, "Its effectiveness is what really matters. After all, isn't that why you're here?"

Irina took another few steps forward, so she was standing in front of Anna; with her gun held, seemingly, quite loosely in her grasp by her side. And she began tapping.

**In the back, in the closets of your mind  
That's where skeletons and dirty secrets hide  
And I'll rip out my insides  
And leave them on display for you tonight  
**

Avalon was standing in front of quite a burly looking man who towered over her small form, his large hands keeping her restrained by their placement over her slight shoulders. She tried to release herself from his hold, but his grip tightened on her and his fingers dug into her skin through the thin material of her top. Irina watched the child wince ever so slightly and narrowed her eyes at Anna – though her real attention was on the reply within the quick strumming of the girl's small fingers.

"Let her go Anna", Irina spoke coldly, "She has nothing to do with this."

Anna merely laughed, walking towards Irina, her gun held pointing towards her, "Now see that's where you're wrong, Irina."

And she directed the weapon right in front of Irina's chest then as she said, "She has everything to do with this."

And a cold smile came upon Anna's face then, as she added, "Isn't that right, Mr Korovich?"

**Cause' everybody wants to hide their secrets away  
Nobody wants to stand up to the pain  
But I will stand up to the pain  
Wake up and fight again  
If you could dance with me through this rain  
And we will fight, we'll fight again, fight again  
(fight again, fight again)…  
**

Irina's eyes shot across to the young man being escorted into view by two large 'minders' on either of him. He looked up at her then, regret and sorrow evident in his eyes, before Anna stepped over so she in front of him, obstructing Irina's view.

Two more men appeared by Irina this time, one hand from each sitting on top of their weapons. She supposed they thought it would serve as a warning to her, as a threat not to try anything, or that would be the consequence. But if they thought that they were going to intimidate her simply by showing off their measly little pistols they had another thing coming.

After a rapid spell of strumming, she chanced a quick, and extremely brief, glance to her side and noted the smallest of nods in acknowledgement from the youngster. And in a matter of seconds, the child was fulfilling Irina's instructions.

In a single movement, Avalon had grabbed the man's forearm, spun round and swiftly snapped his ulna in half; effectively seizing his gun in the process. A moment later, and she had the weapon pointed straight at Anna.

Irina couldn't help but laugh then, nor could she help gloating, "It seems … you underestimated her, Anna."

The weapon felt odd in her small hands, but she'd been around firearms her whole life, so she adjusted accordingly fairly quickly. Shifting her hold on the weapon slightly so it was more comfortable, she gave it a quick glance – and smirked inwardly at the power she now held all due to the small object within her grasp.

"Where is my father?" Avalon questioned.

Anna merely laughed, "Oh, of course, wait a minute and I will have Jacques here escort you to his place of dwelling."

Avalon's eyes narrowed, and she cocked the gun, taking a step forward to where Anna stood. She inwardly smiled; Anna's eyes had flickered across to the door by the back wall on the mention of her father's location, and Avalon was completely certain Anna had no idea she had noticed it. The woman had far too much confidence in herself.

**All my life I hide my secrets away,  
In the dark, in the dark, in the dark  
We all try to hide our secrets away,  
In the dark, in the dark, in the dark**

"It was a nice parade Anna", Irina told the younger woman, and with a short laugh she added, "But an eight-year-old girl just rained on it – and that can never spell good news."

A tight smile spread across Anna's face then as she looked at Irina, before she turned her attention to the child before her, "You'll be shot before you even have time to pull the trigger, little girl"

"Really?" Avalon asked, her voice innocent and child-like, but her face screwed up in a hurt look, "I'll be shot?"

And before she even had time to respond, Avalon had quickly shifted the gun ever-so-slightly to the right, and fired a shot directly into the man by the Anna's side.

She briefly wondered how harmless she seemed to them now, with a sweet little smile on her face and her sugary voice saying, "Night night Jacques."

They all watched as a look of shock resonated from the man's face, echoing all their true feelings, before he slumped to the floor, dead. The blood pooled around his corpse, meandering it's way across the hard ground; the red river but the first symbol of the destruction this child could bring when provoked.

Then Avalon's eyes raised from the dead man before her, and she pouted her lips as she said in a small, fake voice, "I guess he won't be escorting me to my father after all – shame really, because he seemed like _such_ a nice person!"

As she listened to Avalon emphasising each word at the end, Anna brought her gaze back to its previous place, and found herself looking down the barrel of the gun once more, the face of a child staring back at her.

In one swift movement, Avalon had fired the gun once more, and an intense pain fired through Anna's leg, as it crumpled, and she collapsed to the ground, now only balanced on a single bended limb. Guns cocked from all around her, and Avalon smiled, giving the various weapons aimed in her direction no more than a fleeting glance.

"Shoot her!" Anna commanded them.

No one moved.

"Shoot her!" Anna shouted at them again, looking around wildly – but the others had seen what this child could do, and none wished to be next on her hit-list, especially if they didn't need to be.

It was likely that they would be able to take her, if they actually fired their weapons together, but none did. Unlike with Avalon and Irina, they had no way of silently communicating with one another, and no one was about to take a shot when they weren't sure they'd have the backing of the others at the same point. Besides, by the time they pulled the trigger, she could have already hit them with a bullet of her own – and that would just be an unnecessary waste.

Avalon watched the men surrounding her and Anna, as they remained immobile in their positions. Sure, their guns were still ready and pointed in her direction, but none had fired yet, and she doubted any would right then. She laughed at the sight around her, it was truly hilarious when she thought about it – after all, there was she; previously a 'mere child' in their eyes, now so feared by them that none dared pull the trigger; even though they outnumbered her by a good eight guns or so.

**Stand up to the pain  
Wake up and fight again  
If you could dance with me through this rain  
And we will fight, we'll fight again, fight again  
Fight again  
Cause' everybody wants to hide their secrets away  
And that's ok  
Nobody wants to stand up to the pain  
Fight again**

Her laughter ricocheted off the hard stone surrounds, before it suddenly came to a dead halt. Her voice turned icy, and a cold smirk emerged on her face, as she spoke, "I don't think so."

And in that moment, Anna Espinosa understood what it meant to be known as the child of Julian Sark.

* * *

Song: 'Secrets' by Good Charlotte  
Thank you for reading,and please let me know what you thought of this part, or the rest for that matter, and I'll try update again soon (now I'm back from holiday)  
All comments and replies (as long as they aren't TOO nasty) are greatly appreciated!  
Steph  
xxx  
:D 


	6. In This World Murder

Sorry for the delay, I'll try update more frequently rom now on! Hope you like it...

* * *

Part Six – In This World (Murder)  
**In this world all of our sins are simple  
We choose death over innocent life  
And in this world it's not our money that's evil  
It's the one's who choose it over life  
And in my heart I cannot believe in this murder  
And I will not be fed by the lies  
Or the life that's created just to be murdered  
It's murder **

As soon as Avalon pulled the trigger on Anna, all Hell broke loose.

The eight-year-old was prepared for it, however. No one had noticed the 'Morse-code' – of sorts anyway – that Irina and she had been sending back and forth, and so she was able to execute most of Irina's plan. Granted, Avalon doubted that Irina had really intended for her to actually shoot Anna at all herself, but now she had, all she could think of was getting to the door and her father on the other side.

As soon as she had fired the shot, both Irina and Mars, took the momentary stunning of those surrounding them as an opportunity, and disarmed each guard, effectively killing them as they did so.

The rest of Irina's team took the opportunity then, and began firing at their opposition. Bullets zipped by in every direction, and dodging behind both people and objects, Avalon meandered her way towards the back door, crouching low with the foreign gun still held within her grasp.

She had just reached the door, her fingers gripping the handle, when suddenly a bullet shot directly towards her. Due to the bearing it was travelling at, it nicked her thumb and forefinger, but the impact of the hit on her hand sent the gun sprawling. And as she tried to keep a firm grip with one hand, she stretched out her opposite arm, desperately extending her fingers in a hope that she could steal the firearm into her possession again.

But just as her fingers curled ever-so-slightly round the weapon, giving her the chance of ownership once more; she heard the unmistakable sound of a gun firing from her right – and by the sound of the shot, it was aiming straight for her.

**No matter how hard they try and  
No matter how loud they cry  
They can't  
Buy their way into heaven  
No matter how hard they try and  
No matter how high they climb up the ladder  
They won't reach up into heaven**

She heard Avalon take a sharp intake of breath and her head whirled round just in time to hear a dull click, before the bullet began caressing the air. And suddenly her body was moving of it's own accord, and she was flying through the air – right into the object's path.

The thought struck her then that she had expected so much more. Screams. Terror. At the very least a bang …

But when it happened, the look on her face was not one of pain, or of fear, as she stared at the smoking gun held within the grasp of just another faceless killer. In fact, it was sheer, blinding, curiosity.

She watched, fascinated, as the dark blood spread slowly across her shirt. It was warm, like honey that had been left out in the sunshine.

And then the welcoming blackness enveloped her.

There was no tunnel, with its blinding light. Nor was there a sudden flashback of all the things that had taken place in her life. She supposed the latter would have hurt her more than any bullet. Rather, she found herself relaxing and sinking downwards. It was simple, unimpressive and unassuming.

_Something was lapping at her feet._

_Warm._

_Comforting._

_Of their own accord, her eyes opened. And she soon realized she was on a deserted beach, standing at the water's edge, with the hems of her suit trousers absorbing the liquid. She stood as she had done as a child, sinking slowly further and further into the wet sand with each rhythmic heartbeat of the sea. Time moved infinitely slower as she stood, staring at the colours of the horizon; the pink and peach and yellow, blending with the blue and green of the glittering water. She spread out her arms unselfconsciously and drew in breath after cleansing breath. Suddenly, she was filled with a profound sense of calm as she let herself sink backwards, the air caressing her gently._

_It struck her that this, this … moment, was the happiest she'd ever been. Her life had been disappointing, she could only hope her afterlife would be better._

Avalon stood rooted to the spot, her bright blue orbs watching on in horror as Irina's body slumped to the ground, before her. Irina's eyes locked with hers for a moment, and she mouthed, '_I Love You'_ to the youngster, and for a split second, Avalon would have sworn she saw a flicker of a smile pass by Irina's features, before her eyes fluttered shut.

**And they can't see  
The innocent lives  
The pointless suffering  
And in my heart I wanna undo all this murder  
And give back their innocent life  
Open cages and stop their luxurious murder  
It's murder**

Everything was a blur then. She heard muffled voices calling her, the crunching sound of the rubber as boots tread over the chipped stone, and then the unmistakable sound of a bullet whizzing by her ear.

And suddenly, she was back in the room again. Mars was yelling at her, telling her to run, to get out of there. She watched as a bullet hit him in the arm, making her gasp momentarily, and eliciting a gagged groan from the elder, but still he continued to shout at her; and when she saw the pleading in her Uncle's eyes, she knew she had to go.

Turning swiftly, she pushed down on the handle and wrenched the door open with all her might. And she was so caught up in the moment as she caught sight of her father's form before her, that she could not help but scream, "Daddy!"

Unfortunately, it not only alerted Sark's attention, but that of the men standing before him as well.

"Avalon, no!" Sark shouted as an eruption of gunfire shot her way.

At which, a light squeal emitted from her lips and she dived behind a bundle of crates, shielding her from the bullets – but it wouldn't last.

Her father was strapped to a metal chair, with associates of Anna's stationed before him, their automatic weapons ready in their hands, but aimed toward the floor. Sark started to shout as he watched the two grin at each other, before they began making their way towards the youngster. The third man remained by Sark, and smacked him across the jaw with the butt of his gun, ordering him to, "Shut your mouth!"

Sark's head snapped to the side, and he spat red, as the man leered down at him with a toothy yellow grin.

**No matter how hard they try and  
No matter how loud they cry  
They can't  
Buy their way into heaven  
No matter how hard they try and  
No matter how high they climb up the ladder  
They won't reach up into heaven**

They were making their way slowly towards her position, their guns held up before them, as one taunted, "Come out, come out wherever you are."

He looked over at his 'accomplice' who grinned back, and they nodded briefly to one another, as they took their final steps and rounded each side with their guns held high. But there was no one there.

Spinning round quickly, they moved to the right together, and their eyes widened at the sight: the chair stood empty, the handcuffs hanging discarded by the back rails, and the other's dead body lay – seemingly untouched – on the ground.

A click.

A cutting, "Hello boys."

A bullet inserted into each of their brains.

Before their bodies had even hit the ground Avalon was by her father's side once more, throwing her arms round his waist, as he encircled his own round her small form. She looked up at him, tears forming in her eyes, and smiled, "I love you, Daddy."

**Murder  
Innocent Life  
Innocent what... **

A small smile appeared on his face then as he returned the sentiment, and he held her close once more as she cried into him.

"Auntie Rina fell, Daddy", she told him suddenly amid the tears, "He fired the gun, and it was meant for me, and she saved me."

He pulled back slightly, looking down at her and cupping her face in his hands, "Where is she, Angel? Is she still back there?"

Avalon nodded wordlessly.

"And what about Mari? Is he back there too?" Sark asked.

She nodded again, "They brought him in after me, and – "

"What happened, Ava? Is he hurt? How did you get here?" Sark asked hurriedly.

She nodded her head again, in answer to his second question, as she faced downwards, and Sark brought her face up to look at him once more as he said, "What happened?"

Tears were spilling down her cheeks then as she spoke, "They caught us, and made us go with them. Uncle Mari tried to fight them – I did too, Daddy."

And her eyes lit up slightly at that, and her father gave her a small reassuring smile, before she continued, "But then they hit him, and he fell to the ground. He didn't wake up again for ages, and when he did, they started hitting him. And then they brought us in. Auntie Rina came over when I was there, and then they brought in Uncle Mari, and they were going to shoot him. But Auntie Rina and I had been doing our code – you know the one we made a few summers ago?"

Sark nodded, and with her eyes cast downwards she carried on, "Well, I got the gun off the man beside me, and … and then I shot a man."

**What have we done?  
No mercy (No matter how hard they try)  
For beautiful money (and no matter how loud they cry)  
Money for blood (they can't buy their way into heaven)  
It's murder**

Sark eyes suddenly clouded over then as the realization of what Avalon had been made to do sunk in.

"And then I told Anna to tell me where you were. She didn't tell me, but I saw her eyes flicker to the door, and I knew you were there. But she kept shouting for the others to shoot me, and I was so scared Daddy, I thought they were going to hurt me, but then when I realized they weren't going to … I fired."

**No matter how hard they try and  
No matter how high they climb up the ladder  
They won't reach up into heaven  
No matter how hard they try and  
No matter how loud they cry  
They can't  
Buy their way into heaven**

And she raised her eyes to those of her father's then, a look of sudden awareness on her face, as she said, "Daddy, I shot Anna Espinosa."

* * *

Song: 'In This World (Murder)' by Good Charlotte

Hope you liked it, an please lemme know what you thought - feedback, as always, is much apreciated!  
Thanks  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	7. Pushing Me Away

Part Seven – Pushing Me Away  
**I've lied to you  
The same way that I always do  
This is the last smile  
That I'll fake for the sake of being with you**

And she raised her eyes to those of her father's then, a look of sudden awareness on her face, as she said, "Daddy, I shot Anna Espinosa."

Then she coked on a sob, "And I left them, Daddy I left them in there – I should have stayed with them."

And suddenly she had torn herself from his grasp, and made a dash back towards the door, when a figure occupied the frame, their shadow looming over the youngster.

**(Everything falls apart, even the people who never frown eventually break down)  
The sacrifice of hiding in a lie  
(Everything has to end, you'll soon find we're out of time left to watch it all unwind)  
The sacrifice is never knowing **

Why I never walked away  
Why I played myself this way  
Now I see your testing me pushes me away

Sydney had come through for him. He had called her and asked her to provide backup. Not necessarily telling her the true nature behind it, he simply stated that Anna Espinosa would be there, and it would be in her and the rest of APO's best interests if they stationed agents around the building so as to secure her capture. But he made sure that she was, on no uncertain terms, to enter the building until he gave her the signal – and she had, albeit extremely reluctantly, agreed.

But now she was becoming ever more increasingly fidgety. Weiss kept giving her sideways glances, trying to include sympathetic smiles and reassurances as he did so, but it wasn't really helping her anxiety much or her urge to run in there and fire off round after round into those Bastards who were no doubt trying to take her own father down.

She let out a low growl.

Weiss looked over at her again, "Shouldn't be long now, Syd, besides your father wouldn't leave you sitting out here for the whole time, missing out on all the action."

She half-glared at him then, "Eric, that's _exactly_ the kind of thing my father'd do, and you know it."

He gave her another sympathetic smile, shrugging his shoulders slightly, "Well in any sense, the gunshots seem to have died down a bit, so hopefully we'll be going in fairly soon."

She sighed, exhaling deeply, "Suppose."

**Why I never walked away  
Why I played myself this way  
Now I see your testing me pushes me away**

As the firing drew to a halt – after what seemed like forever – he and the others started going about 'securing' the various areas before starting the job of identifying their own; searching for survivors, if there was any, amid the rubble. There wasn't many.

And as he stepped over the countless, faceless bodies littering the hard stone floor he came across one that he never wished to see. Dropping immediately to his knees, he cradled her head in his hands.

"Irina", he breathed out.

Her eyes opened then, and she looked up at him.

"Jack", she croaked, cracking the smallest of smiles at his presence.

He looked down at her body, and noted the dark burgundy colour settled on her chest; it was by her heart – she didn't have long.

"Where's Sark?" he asked her after a moment of just watching each other intently.

"Avalon", she managed to say.

**I've tried like you  
To do everything you wanted too  
This is the last time  
I'll take the blame for the sake of being with you**

"What about her? Did you get to her? Is she ok?" he fired the questions at her rapidly, hating that they didn't have more control over the situation, and desperately needing some answers to ease his mind – if only a little.

"Sark", she said next – and he could tell she was fading quickly.

"Where are they Irina?" he questioned again, shaking her shoulders a little to try and prevent her succumbing to the darkness, and to get her to focus once more on him and his voice above her.

" … Sark", she repeated after a moment.

"What do you mean, Irina? Where is Avalon? Where's Sark?" he asked hurriedly.

"Help Sark", Irina told him in a raspy voice, and that was when he saw it: the small trickle of red slowly meandering its way down the side of her discoloured lips.

"I'm trying to Irina, but I can't if you don't tell me where they went", he replied, trying not to sound

"She … help Sark", she managed to get out then, before watching in horror as the realization sunk in, and Jack's pupils' widened slightly at the thought.

And then she choked.

And taking a gulping breath, summoning all her remaining strength, she told him earnestly, "Take care of them, Jack … all of them."

Exhaled lightly then, her head went limp in his arms.

**  
(Everything falls apart, even the people who never frown eventually break down)  
The sacrifice of hiding in a lie  
(Everything has to end, you'll soon find we're out of time left to watch it all unwind)  
The sacrifice is never knowing  
**

His breath hitched in his throat, but as he heard the sound of hasty footsteps approach him, he turned round to meet them, the distraction meaning he was unable to dwell fully on his wife's death – for which he was somewhat grateful in a way.

One of Irina's men came running over to him, a look of dread on his face as he informed Jack, "Espinosa's missing, sir – we're trying to locate her now, but she must have disappeared during the fighting."

Jack's eyes went cold then, but the full weight of what Irina's words and this sudden revelation portrayed dawned on him – Avalon had gone after Sark, and he would be paying the price for betraying Espinosa; and Jack could only hope that she took it through Sark's blood and not his daughter's.

"Oh God", Jack breathed out, as the sudden scream in the background caught their attention and all eyes darted in the direction of the far away wall; and the flood of gunshots that followed instantly told Jack all he needed to know, as his eyes clouded over and he stated gravely, "It's over."

**Why I never walked away  
Why I played myself this way  
Now I see your testing me pushes me away**

"You should never have betrayed me", Anna told him, lifting her hand and firing a single shot, before her arm dropped to her side, and her shoulders sagged.

And before he'd even had time to think of what had happened, or what he was doing, he had fired round after round into her, watching as her body jerked at each hit, before she finally slumped to the ground.

**Why I never walked away  
Why I played myself this way  
Now I see your testing me pushes me away**

He let out a strangled sob then, as she slowly turned round to face him, a look of complete bewilderment on her face, the scarlet spreading rapidly across her top. It wasn't a colour that he should have ever had to see on her – anywhere on her – the blood soaking her favourite shirt an unsalvageable shade of crimson as the toy elephant dropped to the ground suddenly and she stumbled forward.

Sark rushed forward to catch her then, meeting her glassy eyes with tear-filled blue orbs of his own. The pain etched into her features and reflected in the small creases on her forehead was enough to make him want to fill Anna with another magazine – it didn't matter if she was dead already, she had hurt his daughter, _she_ deserved to be the one lying in pain and suffering the consequences of a bullet to the chest; not her, not his Avalon.

He was holding her close, dry sobs escaping his mouth as he grappled at the thin material that clothed her upper body, desperately trying to compress the wound and prevent any further blood loss. But as he watched the colour slowly drain from her face, and her lips take on a blue tint, he knew there was nothing he could do – and that was what was really killing him, what was making him try even harder to stop this, to keep her with him; his little girl.

"I love you, Ava", he told her seriously, looking her straight in the eye, "Don't you forget that. Don't you damn well forget."

She nodded quickly then, "I love you too, Daddy."

**We're all out of time, this is how we find how it all unwinds  
The sacrifice of hiding in a lie  
We're all out of time, this is how we find how it all unwinds  
The sacrifice is never knowing**

And his face became contorted in anguish then as he nodded his head too, giving her the weakest of smiles as he tried to reassure her.

But then, how do you reassure a child whose about to die?

How do you tell a child, that is fully aware of what is happening to them, that they'll be ok?

How do you look your child in the eyes, as they are cradled in your arms, bleeding to death, and tell them that they'll be alright?

The answer is simply; you don't.

You can't.

Not when your child is one who has been raised to always be observant, raised to notice everything around them, raised to _understand_ what is going on around them.

And yet, she felt the need to reassure him.

Avalon looked up at him, and although he could see the pain she was trying so greatly to mask in her eyes, she gave him her brightest ever smile as she told him, "Ангел никогда не умирает, только спит."

A smile broke through his pain-ridden face then at the memories she had recollected with the single phrase, and he nodded as he kissed her on the forehead and whispered, "Sleep now my Angel."

She looked up at him, a small smile still lingering on her lips, and murmured, "You're my Superman, Daddy – always and forever."

And just as his lips began to curve upwards at the statement; she was gone. He allowed a single tear to fall as he clutched her small body desperately and looked upward, cursing whatever God there was for taking away his last piece of sanity.

**Why I never walked away  
Why I played myself this way  
Now I see your testing me pushes me away**

The world would burn.

And the flaming bodies, and charred corpses would know – they would know that they were in that position because of what they had done: what they had to him; what they had done to _her_.

And when there was nothing but ash on the ground and smoke in the sky, the world would cry black tears and curse the day Anna Espinosa ever raised her gun on his child.

They would all suffer now.

**Why I never walked away  
Why I played myself this way  
Now I see your testing me pushes me away **

Pushes me away…

**Pushes me away…**

**

* * *

**

Lyrics: 'Pushing Me Away' by Linkin Park  
Translation: Ангел никогда не умирает, только спит – 'An angel never dies, just sleeps' in Russian  
(I hope :blush: )

Thanks for reading, an please lemme know what you think!  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	8. There You'll Be

Part Eight – There You'll Be

Mars stumbled through the doorway, leaning heavily against the stiff barrier previously blocking his entry, and clutching his arm with his hand, the blood still running freely between his fingers. And his eyes immediately found their way to her. The small eight-year-old was lying on the ground; her tiny shape illuminated by the light streaming through the cracked walls and shattered windows, blood pooled around her like a crimson moat surrounding a castle, and the colour already beginning to drain from her face, her lips turning the palest twinge of blue.

"Oh, _Fuck_", he breathed out.

**When I think back  
On these times  
And the dreams  
We left behind  
I'll be glad 'cause  
I was blessed to get  
To have you in my life  
When I look back  
On these days  
I'll look and see your face  
You were right there for me**

Mars staggered across the room as quickly as he could, given his bruised and beaten state, and dropped to his knees by her side. A sob caught in his throat and he choked, reaching out a trembling hand to gently touch her face, on which a small smile still caressed her young features. That just made the whole situation worse.

Another strangled sob escaped his mouth, before he repositioned himself, and placed one arm under her legs and the other beneath her head, before lifting up her limp form into his arms. Straining, he raised himself up, and began to walk towards the door.

One more look down at the little girl in his embrace and he was nearly gone. Her green and white hooped jersey was stained crimson; one foot was missing a shoe leaving it clad only in the multi-coloured stripy sock he'd picked out for her to wear that morning; and while one arm flopped to the side and hung lifelessly; her other was draped across her chest, a safety precaution so she wouldn't lose hold of the pink stuffed elephant that sat on her chest.

The action and picture created was no different from those nights when he used to carry her up to bed when she fell asleep in his arms – only this time, he wasn't going to wake up the next morning and find her smiling down at him as she sat on his stomach and jumped up and down to rouse him. This time the dark red smeared across her chest marked the change in the situation. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Avalon Sark had been murdered.

An eight-year-old little girl caught up in the middle of a gunfight.

And now her father had left to account justice on her behalf.

Because there was no way in Hell Julian Sark would ever let this one slide; no way in Hell he'd let those responsible live; no way in Hell he wasn't going to raise fire and brimstone distributing vengeance to anyone involved.

The world would burn.

They would all suffer now.

**In my dreams  
I'll always see you soar  
Above the sky  
In my heart  
There always be a place  
For you for all my life  
I'll keep a part  
Of you with me  
And everywhere I am  
There you'll be**

Somewhere in the following minutes after being informed of them loosing track of Espinosa, Jack looked up to be met with the tear-filled eyes of his daughter.

"Sydney", he said softly.

She tore her eyes from Irina's body to him, "How?" she asked simply.

Jack's head cocked to the side ever so slightly, "Sydney, your mother – "

"How did it happen?" Sydney gritted out, "Who did it?"

"One of Espinosa's men", Jack told her, "She obviously didn't hear it coming. Sydney it was chaos, she couldn't have anticipated she would have been brought down by a mere lackey like him"

Sydney raised a hand to her face and irritably wiped away some tears, which had already begun to fall down her cheeks.

"You knew this whole time", Sydney said, after a moment, "You knew she wasn't dead and you never told me."

"Sydney – ", Jack started to respond, "It was Irina's decision, I only found out a short while ago when she finally contacted me. She – "

But Sydney cut him off with a small smile as she answered, "Dad, it's ok. I assume it was for my own protection that neither of you told me, yes? It always is after all isn't it?"

**Well you showed me  
How it feels  
To feel the sky  
Within my reach  
And I always  
Will remember all  
The strength you  
Gave to me  
Your love made me  
Make it through  
Oh, I owe so much to you  
You were right there for me**

And she wiped her eyes again with her fingers before she gave him another shaky, but reassuring, smile; presumably relieving herself of the bitterness in the last statement also, as she said sincerely, "I'm glad you were with her."

She lifted her eyes to meet his and he saw the silent understanding then, and nodded.

And then Sydney looked past him, taking a sharp intake of breath, and drawing her weapon suddenly.

Jack's head spun round instantly, and that was when he saw her.

"Good God", he breathed out at the sight of the young man before him, holding the bloodied youngster in his arms.

**In my dreams  
I'll always see you soar  
Above the sky  
In my heart  
There always be a place  
For you for all my life  
I'll keep a part  
Of you with me  
And everywhere I am  
There you'll be**

Jack was immediately on his feet and standing before him. He had put a hand behind him dejectedly to wave Sydney off, but he was more than certain she still had her weapon deployed. He wondered if it really mattered now anyway. Wondered if any of it mattered. Because he couldn't exactly be sure they'd all live through what would happen next.

His eyes were downcast as his fingers reached out tentatively to trace a line down her cheek in an uncharacteristically intimate gesture, and a small sad smile flittered across his face then as he searched her face for something other than peace and innocence. Death had made her this way. No. _Anna Espinosa_ had made her this way. Death had merely taken advantage of the woman's actions.

She was taken far too soon.

He already knew, not least because it was Mars who had the child in his arms and not her father, that Sark had gone to make sure those responsible paid for what they had done. And he had no doubt that none of them would live beyond the end of the year, never mind the month.

And that was how it should be.

No. How it should be was with Avalon happy and well and _alive_. She didn't deserve to be reduced to another unfortunate individual killed in the crossfire of an exchange gone wrong between terrorists. She didn't deserve to be stretched out lifelessly in her Uncle's bloodied grasp. She didn't deserve to have been shot by a worthless being such as Anna Espinosa. And she didn't deserve to be hit by a bullet not even meant for her and die on the floor of a dingy warehouse in the middle of nowhere.

She deserved to be standing at the football match with her Uncle, cheering on her favourite team as they scored their way to title and cup winning victory. She deserved to be riding happily in his car afterwards, her window rolled down and the breeze blowing in her face as her hair floated behind her, a smile on her face. She deserved to be sitting in the living room later, by his side, eating an assortment of ice cream and jelly and various other confectionary concoctions as they watched Disney films and played different games. She deserved to doze off in her Uncle's arms, and to fall asleep that night with a smile on her face, as her father paid her a surprise visit and kissed her goodnight.

She deserved to live.

**'Cause I always saw in you  
My light, my strength  
And I want to thank you  
Now for all the ways  
You were right there for me  
You were right there for me  
For always**

Sydney and Weiss were scouring the area, and having just previously overseen the escorting of Espinosa's dead body out of the building, they found themselves in the back 'room' once more.

"Think we'll ever find out what really happened here?" Sydney heard Weiss' voice ring off the cold stone that surrounded them.

She paused for a moment, bending down and picking up a small object. Rising from her former crouched position, she turned towards him and held up the article in her hand. It was a small _child-size_ Converse All Star. The white material was splattered with red and the blue rimming had now been dyed a mixture of deep navy and purple in various areas. As a shoelace flopped to the side, allowing a droplet of crimson to fall to the grey below and land with a slight 'splash'; Sydney's face grimaced slightly as she rubbed her thumb and forefinger together and found them to be stained scarlet.

"Do you think you really want to?" she looked up and asked in return.

And as Weiss looked past her and saw the grim face of Jack Bristow in the distance, he knew not how to respond.

**In my dreams  
I'll always see you soar  
Above the sky  
In my heart  
There always be a place  
For you for all my life  
I'll keep a part  
Of you with me  
And everywhere I am  
There you'll be **

**

* * *

**

Song: 'There You'll Be' by Faith Hill

Thanks for reading, please lemme know what you think - an I'm REALLY sorry 'bout the delay, I'll try catch up with these updates!  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	9. Burn, Burn

Part Nine – Burn, Burn

From his place in the bedroom, Sark heard the lock turning, but he paid no attention to it; he didn't need to. There were only three other people with a key to, or who knew about, the apartment in which he was currently standing, now brutally reduced to one, and he didn't think he had the energy to object to Mars; even if he'd wanted to. And in all honesty, his mind wasn't really functional enough to know whether or not this company was really welcome; but then again, Mars was _Mars_, not company.

"What are you gonna do?" his brother-in-law's voice flittered through.

Their loyalty, that of best friend's, would never waver, no matter what the circumstances; they'd been through too much together to allow anything to come between them now. Especially in a time when they needed each other most – even if they didn't know it, or just weren't willing to admit it.

"What I do best", Sark replied simply.

And he turned, placing a magazine into the gun within his grasp and snapping it into place; the crisp cracking of which shattered the air around them, and reverberated off the walls.

" … I'm going to kill them all. Anyone who was involved. Anyone who profited from it. Anyone who even so much opens their eyes at me. I'm going to kill them", Sark finished.

And he pushed the weapon roughly into the holster hanging loosely on his chest, thrusting it into place. He faced Mars then, his blue orbs churning up a storm, and giving the man before him enough cause to worry slightly – though not for himself. No. For the poor bastards who tried to stand in his way. They stood no chance against him when he was like this. They hadn't before. They wouldn't now.

**Where do I begin, with this life we're living in  
Market youth the uniform, make us all fit in  
But do you think, that we're that blind?  
That we can't see, through all your lies  
'Cause it's no good**

"Does she know you had all this in here?" Mars asked after a moment.

Sark's eyes flashed suddenly at the present tense with which he had spoken of his child.

"I mean, uh, I – ", Mars stammered, suddenly realizing what he had said, but not quite willing to, or sure if he really wanted to, correct himself. It would make it all the more real. Make the true reality of what had happened to her hit them full on. And he doubted whether either could ever want that.

Sark turned back to the array of weapons before him once more, snapping another clip into another gun, and sliding it into the other shoulder holster, before replying simply, "Of course."

And then with the slightest of smirks he half-turned to face his friend then as he stated, "She was my daughter, Mars. She did pick up some of my traits."

Mars looked down then, as the blonde stood in front of a myriad of weapons and objects with the sole intention of causing harm – lots of it – and the slightest of smiles touched his lips, before it disappeared a moment later.

A theory came to him then. More like a 'saying' really. He smirked at the idea of it now.

"Guns are the solution to all problems. If you find yourself in a situation that cannot be solved with guns ... you're just not using enough bullets."

As he watched Sark load another series of weapons and place them, along with several blades and other items, strategically around his body, the thought came into his mind.

How true it seemed to be.

Sark finished arming himself and checking over the different weapons and objects in his possession before walking by Mars towards the door.

"How long's it gonna last, Julian?" Mars asked as his brother-in-law passed by him.

"Until it's over, Mari", came Sark's swift reply, as his figure disappeared out the door.

_There were people to kill, and places to blow up_; Mars reasoned to himself; _Just like before._

**Burn, burn, the station  
We'll burn it down  
Burn, burn the truth  
Enjoy the flames  
In celebration  
Enjoy the sound  
For us, for them, for you**

It didn't surprise Mars that Sark hadn't asked about Avalon's location. After all, it's not the kind of conversation one would want to have with an international terrorist. That of the whereabouts of his dead daughter's corpse. Not to mention, it's not exactly an easy subject to broach in the first place. Especially with someone as volatile as Sark.

But he knew Sark trusted him. Trusted him enough to take care of his daughter before and after she'd died. He would have fully understood if Sark had shot him on the spot. After all, she was under his care when they were abducted. It was, essentially, his fault they were both there in the first place. And so, his fault she had died.

But it was a testament to their friendship that their loyalty had stood even after that day 4 years ago, and continued to stand following today.

After the … situation at the warehouse, Jack had arranged immediate transport for both Irina's and Avalon's bodies. They were taken to a secure location, where they would remain until their funerals were sorted out. Which they would be. Jack assured him. No matter what Avalon's affiliation with either Sark or Irina he would make sure she had a proper burial. After all, if he was organizing one for a woman such as Irina Derevko, then the eight-year-old's should be … simple by comparison.

Mars stood in the apartment until well after Sark had left. He stood in the bedroom of the little girl he'd watched grow up. Stood there taking in his surrounding, and cherishing the moment. The room was quite plain, like all the others in the house. With neither Sark nor Irina wanting to draw too much attention to it's true purpose as a residence for his daughter. Anything to prevent people from knowing of Avalon's existence.

It all seemed worthless now.

There were a few subtleties, however, that only those close to her would pick up on. She was far too smart a child to have been taken so brutally like that. And yet, she had. In a matter of minutes, her life had come to a close. All because of that bitch Espinosa.

Every so often a smile would flicker ever-so-slightly across his face when his eyes caught sight of a small detail others would have overlooked, not understanding it's significance. But then the importance of such items or markings or even simply the placement of objects would certainly not have meant anything to others who didn't associate with Avalon regularly. Some aspects of the room were simply those of an eight-year-old child, but hidden discreetly behind the illusion of a simple object, whereas others were purely for Sark or Irina's pleasure in aesthetics; but all had a function in creating the image of a normal bedroom, and all were positioned and chosen by Avalon. She may still have been very much a child, but she was the child of Julian Sark, born and raised by the man and cared for by Irina Derevko. Nothing about her was normal.

**I know that I've been told  
My integrity was sold  
Prized and placed upon a shelf  
It's worth its weight in gold  
But do you think, we've lost our minds?  
Yeah we can see, through all your lies  
'Cause it's no good**

Mars stood in the same spot for God knows how long, wondering why he couldn't grieve for her. Why he couldn't cry for her.

He just couldn't get the tears to come. They wouldn't.

But then Irina had told him that a man named Christian Nevell Bovee once said, "tearless grief bleeds inwardly."

Evidently, there was a little more truth in quotations than he'd cared to give them credit for in the past.

His deep blue orbs glazed over all of a sudden, as the image of Avalon's lifeless body flashed before him. Eyes catching sight of the exposed paneling on the wall, he punched in the code, watching as the wall before him became illuminated with a green hue and he was met with a multitude of weapons and attacking devices.

Sark was right. There would be a time to grieve later. Right now, what they needed to do was punish the bastards that were responsible for this.

Violence worked too, he supposed, when tears seemed impossible.

**Burn, burn, the station  
We'll burn it down  
Burn, burn the truth  
Enjoy the flames  
In celebration  
Enjoy the sound  
For us, for them, for you**

It took him less than ten minutes to have a seat booked on a plane, and less than fifteen to arrive at the airfield to board. The only thing that took any time was actually _getting there._

But when he did, he had to admit; he did entrances so well.

"I guess the polite thing to do is cough and let you know I'm standing here. But, that always seems so forced don't you think?" Mars' voice rang through, bouncing off the walls and catching the occupants of the room off-guard.

"Mars", Jack acknowledged, turning round to face the younger man, "How did you get in here?"

He was leaning casually against the doorframe, watching the two carefully, and answered with a smirk, "Your security is easily … persuaded."

"You mean easily _killed_?" Sydney snapped back in response.

Mars' smirk grew then, as he merely shrugged in return.

And he pushed off the surround and started walking towards them. Jack felt Sydney tense ever-so-slightly by his side, and he laid a hand on her arm gently. Obviously the younger man noticed, since he smiled knowingly at Sydney, and made no effort to hide the amusement he felt from his face.

"I'm not going to harm you, Miss Bristow", Mars told her, with a slight sigh escaping from his lips.

"That would be a complete waste of bullets and energy", he informed her, moving over to the right of the room and taking a seat quite comfortably on one of the sofa's.

"And quite frankly I can't be bothered with it", he added, stretching out slightly on the couch.

**Burn, burn, the truth, the lies, the news  
Burn, burn, the life, that you can choose  
Burn, burn, the hate, that gets, you through  
Burn, burn, for us, for them, for you  
Burn, burn, for us, for them, for you  
Burn, burn, for us, for them, for you  
Burn, burn, for us, for them, for you  
Burn, burn for us, for them, for you  
Burn, burn for us, for them, for you  
Burn, burn for us, for them, for you  
Burn, burn for us, for them, for you  
Burn, burn for us  
'Cause it's no good**

It was then that Jack really noticed how alike Sark and Mars really were; what had probably kept the two of them together for so long. The similarities between the two men were actually astounding. Both seemed rather blasé about the whole notion of killing others – as was to be expected from such who had associated with Irina Derevko on practically a daily basis – but it was more than that. Both shared certain mannerisms and sayings, and despite the fact Jack sensed Sark was a lot more serious in his nature than Mars, they shared certain qualities that would be hard to find in one man, never mind two. Not to mention, that flaming sarcastic nature of theirs that, he had no doubt, only served the purpose of irritating anyone within a twenty-mile radius of them.

"No need to stand on my account", Mars told them amusedly, a smirk dancing across his features, "Please, have a seat."

Sydney shot a glare at him then, and he sent her a dazzling smile in return, which only functioned to further infuriate her.

She took a seat on the couch opposite, while Jack sat on the armchair in between.

"Jack", Mars immediately addressed the elder, "He's going to need your help."

"Where is he?" Jack asked.

"Where do you think he is?" Mars said sarcastically, "He's gone to find the bastards who did it."

"Does he know where to start? Who's responsible?" Jack questioned.

Mars just looked at the older man, "Well considering he went straight to the apartment, an all but _emptied_ the compartment in her room of all it's guns and other weapons, then I'd say there's a pretty good chance he knows where to start, yeah."

Jack nodded, mulling over their options silently in his head.

"Who do you think he'd go for first?" Jack asked him after a moment.

Mars shrugged a little, "Best guess, he'll go for Markisko first. He'll get him in the beginning, bleed him dry of all he knows, then make his death a warning to the others, show them what's to come; an then probably set fire to them all. Something like that anyway – _dramatic_, you know?"

Jack nodded again in understanding.

**Burn, burn, the station  
We'll burn it down  
Burn, burn the truth  
Enjoy the flames  
In celebration  
Enjoy the sound  
For us, for them, for you  
'Cause it's no good!  
Burn, burn, the station  
We'll burn it down  
Burn, burn, the truth  
Enjoy the flames  
In celebration  
Enjoy the sound  
For us, for them, for you**

"Isn't that – ", Sydney started, "I mean – isn't it – "

"Cruel? Sadistic? Sick? Twisted? Do you want me to go on or have I correctly identified what you were going to say?" Mars asked her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "I was going to say _rather predictable_."

"Actually it's not. I just know Sark really well", Mars answered, and turned back to speak to Jack once more.

After discussing amongst themselves the best way to communicate and keep in touch for Jack to forward information, and pass on weapons if needed, and such – which Sydney disagreed with wholeheartedly, but was ignored entirely – Mars stood up to leave. Jack rose also, walking with the younger man towards the door.

"What – What was she to Sark?" Sydney asked after a moment, looking up at the two men from her place still on the couch.

"Avalon?" Mars asked, turning round to face her, his eyes trying to search for the reasoning behind the question within hers.

She simply nodded.

"She was his daughter", Mars told her evenly, and watched in curiosity for her reaction.

"Oh God", Sydney breathed out, not being able to help herself.

"Exactly", Mars replied, "But more than that, she showed him that it was ok to live again."

"And Espinosa and the others took that away, huh?" Sydney said after a moment.

"Uhuh, an they're gonna wish they never touched a hair on her head", Mars answered, with a disturbing promise entwined in his words.

"A man can be an artist in anything, Miss Bristow – food, painting, whatever. It depends on how good he is at it", Mars continued.

She watched him as he spoke, and although she'd encountered the Brit on many an occasion, she couldn't help blanching at Mars' next words; "Sark's art is death."

And he looked at her intently for a split second longer before he added, "And he's about to paint his masterpiece."

And at that he was gone.

**  
For us, for them, for you  
For us, for them, for you  
For us, for them, for you  
For us, for them, for you  
For us, for them, for you**

* * *

Song: 'Burn, Burn' by Lost Prophets

Quotes: "What are you gonna do?" "What I do best…I'm going to kill them all. Anyone who was involved. Anyone who profited from it. Anyone who even so much opens their eyes at me. I'm going to kill them." – Slightly altered version from 'Man On Fire'  
"Guns are the solution to all problems. If you find yourself in a situation that cannot be solved with guns...you're just not using enough bullets." – A phrase I saw or heard somewhere, not sure where, but credit to whoever invented it or…yeah…;)  
"I guess the polite thing to do is cough and let you know I'm standing here. But, that always seems so forced don't you think?" – Slightly altered version from Smallville  
"What – What was she to Sark?" "She was his daughter." "Oh God." "Exactly. But more than that, she showed him that it was ok to live again." "And Espinosa and the other took that away, huh?" "Uhuh, an they're gonna wish they never touched a hair on her head." "A man can be an artist in anything, Miss Bristow – food, painting, whatever. It depends on how good he is at it." "Sark's art is death." "And he's about to paint his masterpiece" – Altered version from 'Man On Fire'

Thanks for reading, please tell me what you think - feedback is always welcome!  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	10. Killing Time

Ok, first off, I am SOOOO sorry for not updating in ages, there's no excuse really, 'cept that I completely forgot to update here along with sd-1, but I finished the fic a short while back, so I'll try update the last few parts in pretty quick succession.  
I'm away in Wales till Friday/Saturday, so I won't be able to update the weekend, but hope you enjoy this part all the same:)

* * *

Part Ten – Killing Time

**I wait and wait... sleepwalk the hourglass  
This way and that... the pendulum swings  
Yes, there's plenty of time... always time left to kill  
Does time stand still or hurtle on by?**

"Did you ever watch that show – 'Lost'?" Sark's voice reverberated off the cold stone surround.

The man strapped before him in a chair, shook his head hurriedly, as he mumbled a single, "No."

The sweat gathering around his temple, had already begun to meander its way down the side of his face, and his hands visibly shook at what he knew was about to occur.

"My daughter was partial to it – she used to sneak past the maids and other house-staff, after they'd sent her to bed, and watch it in one of the back rooms. She was particularly skilled at that. She knew which stairs creaked, which walls shielded her from others, which corridors provided the right shadows for her to hide in. And she never once got caught. Did you know that?" Sark questioned him then, his face mere centimeters away from his captive's.

He smiled tightly then, as he lifted his head, and adjusted his posture once more, "No, I don't suppose you did."

And then Sark resumed his pacing as he circled his hostage, talking as he walked.

"She was an exceptionally clever child, my daughter. Gifted also. Wonderful judge of character; she was especially talented at identifying traitors", and he paused momentarily.

Then, bending down slightly, Sark posed the question, "What do you think she'd say about you?"

When the man simply shook his head in response, Sark nodded and straightened up, "Don't know? Well, not to worry, I'll find out soon enough."

And again Sark began to step back and forth around the man as he spoke to him.

"You know, I caught an episode once – of the show. One of the men, he was being tortured by an ex-Iraqi soldier. The technique he used, albeit improvised somewhat, is one I happen to be familiar with. He sharpened bamboo shoots and inserted them into each of his fingertips. _Wonderful_ for unclogging dirt from beneath the nails, not so good on one's health, however."

And Sark held up the sharp metal spikes then, spreading them apart, and watching in pure glee as they glinted menacingly in the light.

And he smirked coldly down at the man before him, the mischievous spark in his eye all too evident, as he said, "I think it's about time we determined your pain threshold, Markisko, don't you?"

**Let time unwind... let all the cogs fall out  
Let man's machines collapse and rust  
Face down in the dust... I'll kiss no other lips  
A lifetime of nothing, condemned without you**

"When Sark trapped Espinosa, she promised she would kill him. Apparently she went one up – she killed his daughter instead", Sydney told the other's as they sat round a table in APO.

"Sark has a daughter?" came Vaughn's immediate and shocked reply.

"Sark _had_ a daughter", Jack's voice suddenly joined in.

And pressing a single button then, her picture was projected onto the screens before them all.

"Avalon", Jack said simply.

And he turned round to face them, purposely avoiding looking at the photo of the little girl, as he added, "She was eight-years-old."

**Been so long here... I could die here  
Lying by your side  
But time won't claim me, time and me only  
I'm just killing time**

"Sark has apparently taken it upon himself to track down and kill all those involved", Sloane continued.

"Starting with this man", he told them, and pressed another button, casting another picture up onto the screens.

"Anthony Markisko – he was a former Italian arms supplier and informant for various groups, both legitimate and back-channel, living in San Fransisco", he said.

"As of twenty minutes ago, he was pronounced dead by security officials at his home. We believe Sark to be responsible", Sloane reported to them.

And another image was projected up onto the screens then, making many in the room gasp involuntarily through both horror and shock, at what they saw.

"This is what he looked like when the guards first found him", Sloane said, sending a single glance to the picture as he spoke.

The photo, although somewhat grainy, was clear enough to portray the cruelty behind his death. His body was strapped to a chair, blood matting both his skin and his clothes, with the darker patches signifying points of severe trauma. One hand was missing two fingers, while the other three. The tears were spread randomly across his shirt, one such revealing a large, deep, gash in his lower torso. There was a long thick line that ran down his upper thigh, the blood spilling abundantly from it clearly evident even with the standard of the photo. All of the toes on his right appeared to have been literally I_ripped off_/I and the bloody mess that dripped rivulets of crimson to the floor beneath was the remainder of his leg, half of which had been brutally hacked off; in much the same manner as the digits on his foot. Suffice to say, the Italian had suffered – greatly.

"And this is what he looked like when medical services arrived", Sloane then told them, as a different, and more horrifying photo, replaced the previous.

"It is believed Markisko was, in fact, still alive when he was set alight – the others certainly were anyway", he added while all eyes in the room were suddenly diverted away from the image in disgust.

The remnants of baked bodies were littered around the room. And all that now occupied the chair was a blackened corpse, it's roasted jaw opened wide, and it's charred head twisted round at an angle – these simple actions proof enough that he was in agony till the end.

A _fitting_ end, some would probably say, to the life he willingly inflicted upon others … and apparently Sark was of the same opinion.

It seemed that his loyalties weren't nearly as flexible as everyone seemed to think: stealing his money was one thing; imprisoning him for two years another; killing his daughter was apparently something else entirely – and quite rightfully so.

**If the sun went out, I wouldn't mind too much  
Who needs the days to trouble to fill?  
If the moon didn't rise, I wouldn't be upset  
Who needs moonshine to cause tears to spill?**

"_Fear the man who fights for love. Tremble in fear of the man that fights for love lost"_, a voice suddenly remarked, his British accent echoing off the glass encircling them.

Everyone's attention suddenly shot towards the doorway where a man with black hair, and dark brown eyes, stood.

"Who are you?" Sydney demanded first off.

"My name is James Valeska. I'm with British Intelligence", he told them matter-of-factly, moving into the room to join them, and flashing them his ID briefly as he did so.

"And you're about as timely as the Angel of Death, Jamie", came the response from the other side of the room.

"Mars", James acknowledged, taking a step towards the other man, "I heard what happened. I came as soon as I could."

"I'm sure you did", was Mars' simply reply – the apparent sarcasm held within his words relaying how he really felt.

"Mari", the man addressed him then, his voice dipping lower in its volume and the words sounding softer on his tongue.

"You're – you're not suggesting … that I had something to do with what happened? You know I would never do anything to hurt Avalon – she may be Sark's daughter, but she was Eden's too", James said.

His voice held so much sincerity at the end that Mars physically moved his head to the side to avoid it, with both this action and his audible sigh, clearly showing his disbelief and disgust at James' words.

"Yeah, an now they're _all_ dead – convenient that, wouldn't you say?" Mars retorted, facing James once more, and tilting his head to the side as he studied him.

"The fact you're now free to pursue Julian without feeling any guilt over what'll become of his family", Mars continued.

**I've been so long here... I could lie here  
Under dying sky  
This thirst and hunger holds no wonder  
I'm just killing time**

Mars walked towards James then, so he was standing directly in front of him, and completely ignoring the agents around them who were regarding both men with a mixture of intrigue and quiet fear, he began to speak – each word carefully pronounced and punctuated to perfection.

"I saw you, you know. I saw you for the bastard I knew you'd become, when we were six years old – and I was right then, wasn't I?" Mars said.

"I told them you weren't to be trusted, told them you'd ultimately betray us in the end – and I was right, wasn't I? Wasn't I?" he demanded angrily then.

"I never betrayed you, Mars", James answered him simply, "No matter what you think of me, know this, I loved Eden, I loved her more than any of you could possibly imagine, and her death nearly _killed_ me. Avalon was her daughter, I would never intentionally set out to hurt her … no matter who she was related to."

"And Aleksei was her son, but he's lying in a white casket six feet under, his coffin measuring a foot for every year of his life. That's four, Jamie, in case you can't remember", Mars told him coldly, the icicles practically I_dripping_/I off every word he spoke.

"Four fucking years old. And he's dead. Just like the others. Just like Kyla, just like Eden, and just like Ava", his voice continued to haunt the others in the room despite the 'conversation' directed simply between the two men alone.

He locked eyes with the taller man then and spat disgustedly, "You killed them, Jamie. The moment you decided your job meant more to you than their lives – shit, I_our_/I lives – you killed them. You killed my wife, and on my wedding day too. And not only that but you killed my best friend as well; you killed Eden, Jamie – the woman you claim to have loved so much. And if _that_ wasn't enough, you killed her two children as well."

"You can play it how you like", Mars said next, "But bottom line is: you betrayed us; you chose a promotion over all our lives – a _Fucking_ **promotion **Jamie!"

He took a breath in, suddenly as calm as ever again, before he continued on, "You relayed information to your superiors that resulted in their deaths, so however you spin your little tale, however you try and convince others of your version of events, the truth still stands: you were, and always will be, responsible for murdering them."

Barging past James then, Mars began walking away as he called back to him, "I hope Sark leaves you till last, Jamie-boy."

And turning to glance at him briefly, with a menacing promise lingering in his words, he added, "Because that'll be what's called 'Judgement Day'."

And at that Mars walked out.

**I await your return,  
There's no other one.**

**

* * *

**

Song: 'Killing Time' by The Creatures

Hope you liked it and please let me know what ya think - feedback is much appreciated!  
Also, I think I'll change the rating because I've been told it's pretty dark from this chap, or a couple previous onwards, so yeah, it's bumping up! ;)  
Thanks for reading!  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	11. Fearless

Part Eleven – Fearless  
**Is there anything that I need to say  
****That hasn't been said before  
****I have been polite for too long  
****Why should I be anymore  
****Better now than never, better loud than clever  
****Better just to play the fool  
****It's times like this  
****When you just close your eyes and kiss  
****Cause everything after this  
****Is just bullshit and being cruel  
****So hold me up, I'm going out  
****And don't wait up, I won't be coming home**

"Look at me", he demanded, as the man struggled against the firm grip of Sark's hand to keep his head positioned off to the side.

Sark laughed, both because of his command, and the man's futile efforts to throw him off.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you can't", he commented amusedly.

And at that, he ripped off the duct tape that had previously covered the man's eyes, and asked sarcastically, "That better?"

Sark dipped his head then, looking down at the man with dark eyes and a menacing smile, "What do you think your life is worth to your brother?"

And as if on cue, Sark's phone began ringing from its place on the steel table beside him.

"Shall we find out?" he asked him then mockingly, reaching over and flipping open the phone.

"Boris!" Sark's clipped British accent sounded strange when it was twinged with amusement; it made him seem more volatile, more out-of-control, more primitive and predatory – and that could never be good.

"What do you want, Sark?" the Russian's pronounced English rang through the other end immediately.

"Hmm", the blonde replied, pretending to ponder on it for a moment, "Now that is a good question."

"What do I want?" Sark repeated, and he continued to pace round the chair, occasionally allowing his fingers to crawl across the man's upper torso and over his shoulders, purely for the sake of making him further 'on-edge'.

**If you lay me down in concrete fields  
****Will I dream of grass and opera  
****This is the sound and how it feels  
****To be dead**

"But what I _really_ want … well why don't we ask Sergei about that?" Sark told him, and held out the phone to the man tied to the seat before him.

"Your brother wishes to speak to you", he told the man in front of him, holding out the phone towards him.

And suddenly, in one swift movement, Sark had picked up the shotgun, which had been leaning against the trolley beside him, and shot off Sergei's hand.

The Russian's screams reverberated off the walls as he struggled within his confines and tried desperately to free himself, as he began clutching wildly for his arm which was rapidly spurting blood, and staining both he and the chair a deep, slippery crimson.

"I'm going to take your family apart, piece by piece, you understand me, Boris?" Sark chillingly told the man on the other end.

"Piece by piece", Sark repeated, "Do you understand me?"

As Sergei lay unconscious, and silence surrounded him, his voice turned even colder as he gritted out, "I want you!"

Sark wasn't for being gentle; remembering the state Avalon had been left in, blood red spreading across her chest, the colour fading suddenly from her face, her lips turning a disturbing shade of blue, her last words those of comfort to him, her body suddenly going limp in his arms … yes, payback was a bitch.

And that was why he raised the weapon again, reloaded two new cartridges, and fired them into Sergei Dakori's chest. It would serve as a message to his brother; Sark wanted him.

One did not fuck with Julian Sark and get away lightly.

He had been one of those responsible for Avalon's death; he would be dead before sunrise.

**In the end there will be fire and brimstone  
****And no one will be there to answer the telephone  
****You are the only one I'll miss  
****You are the only answer at a time like this  
****She is the trick of my trade  
****She is the thing that can't be made  
****She is gold and nothing less  
****And she is fearless  
****So hold me up, we're going out  
****And don't wait up, we won't be coming home**

The next day and the 'elite' members of APO were all seated round the 'table' once more, awaiting word from Jack and Sloane, when the two men stepped into the room.

"Apparently some people thought Avalon to be part of Rambladi's prophesy – they believed her to be the child he spoke of; that the Chosen One would carry", Jack started speaking almost 'straight-off'

"But she's not yours … is she Syd?" Vaughn said suddenly, seemingly horrified at the idea, and turning his head to face the woman in question.

"Please", Mars scoffed, immediately bringing all their attention to him, as he stood by the door, leaning casually against the glass.

"I know Jack hasn't exactly been known for his great parenting skills at times, but I think even _he_ would have noticed if his daughter was walking around with a huge belly an a baby about to pop out of her at any moment, don't you?"

Jack narrowed his eyes at Mars for a moment, commenting, "So eloquently put, Mars."

The younger man merely flashed him a smile, before turning towards the others and saying, "Avalon was eight, Mr Vaughn. That means Sydney would've had to have been pregnant while she was working with SD-6 – am I correct?"

And he glanced across at Sydney, who nodded simply, "Therefore in answer your question – no, Avalon was not Sydney's child."

"Then why did they think that she was part of the prophecy?" Vaughn questioned.

"Because it's Rambaldi!" Sydney spat, "Why do you think? Everyone in espionage is supposed to be related to him and his work one way or another these days, why should Sark's daughter be any different?"

"That's seems to be the reasoning behind it, Sydney", Sloane's voice joined them, "Sark's daughter wasn't, in fact, associated with the Chosen One. Despite this, she was still believed to play a role in the Prophesy, but what that part was is unclear at this moment."

"What we do know, however", Sloane continued, "Is that Sark is targeting anyone he believes to be involved in his daughter's death, and he is showing no mercy in his acts. We received word this morning that both Dmitri Vasilov – an ex-KGB agent – and Samuel Winderstone – a former MI5 informant – are dead. Photos sent to us, confirmed that their deaths were most likely by Sark."

And at that two images were projected onto the screens.

There was no doubt in any of the minds of those present that these men had suffered – but did they deserve to endure it? Sark certainly thought so, and right now, that was all that separated the living from the dead.

**You hold it in your hand  
****You keep it in your heart  
****You hide it in your head  
****And you use it when you have to  
****She is the trick of my trade  
****These are the things that can't be made  
****Stay yourself and nothing less  
****Stay fearless **

"So, what?" Vaughn voiced after a moment, "Sark's going around killing all these people, and we're … just supposed to let him?"

"They're not exactly nice people he's doing away with, Mr Vaughn", Mars' answered.

"I sincerely doubt you'll miss them that much, and I would've thought you'd have been glad of his … help", he ended with a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Sark's turned vigilante on us, and you expect us to be … _grateful_?" Vaughn scoffed.

"He's not a vigilante", Mars replied simply, "A vigilante is just a man, lost in the scramble for his own gratification. He can be destroyed or locked up. That's not Sark."

Vaughn eyed the Brit carefully then, while he continued, "If you make yourself more than just a man, if you devote yourself to an ideal, and if you can't be stopped; then you turn into something else entirely."

"Which is?" Vaughn asked, his tone somewhat mocking – something Mars didn't like one bit, not one bit at all.

And a cold smile swept across his features then, as he informed the Agent, "Legend, Mr Vaughn. Which is exactly what Sark has become."

"You would do well to watch your backs", Mars called back to them, as he started to walk towards the door, "After all, legends can only be told by those who live to tell the tale."

* * *

Song: 'Fearless' by Matthew Good Band 

Quotes: "A vigilante is just a man lost in the scramble for his own gratification. He can be destroyed or locked up. That's not Sark." "If you make yourself more than just a man, if you devote yourself to an ideal, and if you can't be stopped; then you turn into something else entirely." "Which is?" "Legend, Mr Vaughn." – Slightly altered version from Batman Begins

Sorry for the major wait - truly!  
I'll try post the last three parts within the next couple of days, and then hopefully the start of the sequel  
So, please let me know what you thought, because comments are very much appreciated!  
Thanks  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	12. Ballad For Dead Friends

Chapter Twelve – Ballad for Dead Friends  
**How are you feeling?  
Do you feel ok?  
Cos I don't **

**It keeps me reelin'  
Will I ever be the same?  
No I won't  
**

The anger he had been feeling for the past … how many days was it now? Three? Four? Seven? However long it had been, it had been too long – in fact it shouldn't have been long in the first place, it shouldn't even have happened – but nevertheless the anger he had been feeling for the last while filtered back to the forefront of his mind. The anger. It was like an entity. It seemed to be the only thing that defined him these days – his anger. It didn't bother him, it was merely a catalyst in his proceedings – and if it made it all seem more fulfilling, made it all the more easier to execute, made it all the more easier to dull the pain of yet another loss; then who was he to argue. In fact, he'd be happy to increase the anger if it meant it cancelled out the pain he was made to feel everyday. But it never would – the pain was too great now, he doubted it would ever disappear. So all he could do was live with the anger – embrace it, and use it to his advantage, and make sure it didn't completely destroy him along with the rest.

He raised himself up from the sofa of another room; at another safe house; in another country. His ribs ached slightly as he did so, but it was just the sign of another job completed, and it added to the anger in trying to dull the anguish. Kept him knowing he was still alive – if only as a body, a shell, an _entity_. It didn't matter what he felt in the long run, she had deserved to live, and they stole that from her, him; they stole that from them both – there was no other choice but to make them suffer for it. It didn't matter how, as long as it was painful – as painful as what he had to endure everyday of his existence without them. They had to die. There was no other way.

**Its a cold day in a cruel world  
**

As he walked into the bathroom, the harsh light from the cheap fluorescent lighting bore down on him; he ignored it, intent on checking over the damage the little mutt had done to him.

His reflection stared intently back at him, as he inspected each bruise, each mark, each cut, each stain on his otherwise perfect skin – but they were battle scars he was proud to have.

Yet, they also meant he'd have to work harder; he was getting sloppy, he couldn't afford to act rashly – ever. If he died before he'd finished it all, finally given her justice, he was no better than the rest of them. He would have achieved nothing, and it would have all _been_ for nothing.

No, he would not fail. Not in this. This, he would finish, and he would make sure they were all where they belonged, before ending it all – he would make sure they were all dead. _The **way** they fucking belonged,_ he thought to himself.

**I really wished I could have saved you  
Then who would save me from myself?  
Right now, well, I could use a stiff drink  
To kill the pain that's deep inside my bones**

Anger suddenly raged within him, both at his physical signs of weakness, as well as their continual existence. He punched the mirror violently, as if it had jumped out and tried to attack him.

The temper wasn't new, either.

Shards of glass flew everywhere, but he didn't care. His hand was cut in multiple places, clear slivers peaking out from broken skin, and red surrounding them, but _he_ _didn't care_.

He watched a small trickle of blood as it rolled down his palm and dripped from his fingers into a small puddle on the white porcelain sink. The thin red stream meandered its way down the tile slope before finally coming to the metal of the drain, where it disappeared into the drop of the black abyss below.

If only he could've been so lucky.

But it was nice to know that he could still bleed. Good to know, he was still human somewhere deep within the monster that had seemed to resurface in greater magnitude than ever before. And it was a comfort to know he was alive – after all it seemed to be the only difference between him and the rest. He needed to keep that distinction.

He couldn't be the same as them. If he was, he might as well have been the one that ordered the hit, he might as well have been the one that freed Espinosa, he might as well have pulled the trigger himself, he might as well have been the bullet that pierced her perfect little heart.

No, he was alive, and they were dead … but then, so was she.

And with that thought running through his head, he knew he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

Besides, he still had work to do.

**Have you been dreaming?  
I don't dream at all  
I have nightmares  
Memories careenin'  
Have you come to kill what's left  
Of my smile  
**

James walked into his apartment, unhinged by the darkness it harboured and welcoming the silence it brought. Closing the door behind him, he dropped his keys on the table as soon as he went in, and moved to flick the switch by the mirror above.

A shadow in the corner had enveloped the environment with open arms – and when it was about to be disturbed it launched itself forward.

Suddenly James was against the wall, and a knife was slammed through his hand with such force that it instantly drained the colour from his features.

"Evening James", a chilling voice greeted in his ear, before swiftly smashing his head into the plaster.

"Julian", the Intelligence Agent breathed out, turning round to face his old friend.

"Not anymore, James. Julian's dead", the blonde answered, "Now it's just Sark."

And his eyes glinted menacingly in the moonlight, as a cold smile crept across his face, "And we both know how he likes to play."

**There's no vacancy in paradise**

Jack opened the door to the briefing room and grabbed him, immediately slamming his body up against the glass wall and pressing his face roughly into it.

"You Son of a Bitch!" he gritted out angrily, unable to control himself any longer.

"She was just a child", Jack said, becoming further enraged by the minute.

"She was involved in the prophecy, Jack!" Sloane told him, as if that was answer enough for his acts, "She was going to be the catalyst in Rambaldi's endgame – she had to be eliminated, Jack, she had to!"

Jack's eyes narrowed as he looked at his old friend.

"You also seem to be conveniently forgetting whose child she was", Sloane added, his tone appearing to reprimand the other man, "There's no telling what damage she could've inflicted on us – any of us, Jack. None."

"Well then I suppose if that was your reasoning, we should have just killed Sydney and Nadia at birth too, and any other child born under a Government Agent for that matter – especially since _you_ seem to have recruited half the country into some form of defective espionage over the years", Jack answered him bitingly.

"She was part of the prophecy, dad", Sydney's voice joined them after a moment of silence.

Jack's questioning eyes shot towards her, so did Sloane's surprised ones, as well as the mixture of confused and shocked looks from the other occupants in the room.

"Rambaldi's endgame was going to come about through mom. And whom she cared about the most", Sydney said then.

Jack let out a breath, voicing softly, "Avalon."

**I really wished I could have saved you  
Then who would have saved me from myself  
Right now, well, I could use a stiff drink  
To kill the pain that's deep inside my bones**

Sydney nodded, "She was the key to all Rambaldi's predetermined works, and mom could only bring the 'peace' if her DNA and that of Rambaldi's was combined with Avalon's. They said I was supposed to bring utter desolation, kill Nadia etcetera, but mom was able to bring peace. The outer arrows in the Rambaldi eye – mom was said to have claimed they represented her two daughters, and the circle in between them what they would fight over. From what we could tell, that was true. But so long as the one that meant most to her was still alive and with her, mom would be able to bring the peace Rambaldi claimed her to possess. We all thought for so long that I was the one who meant most to mom – her only daughter. And then Nadia came along, and that view was split between us. There was also you, dad, we knew after all these years that you and mom still loved each other – despite all that had happened. But we were all wrong. It was Avalon who really meant most to her."

And some tears spilled down her cheeks then, making Jack step towards her as he said softly, "Sydney."

She shook her head, wiping them away, "No, I'm not bitter. I guess mom felt she had another chance with her – another shot at being a 'mother' … of sorts anyway, and not screwing it up like she'd done with us. I'm just sorry that a little girl had to die because of how mom felt about her."

"_Actually_, Sydney", a voice broke in, "You're only _somewhat_ correct there."

**I really wished I could have saved you  
Then who would have saved me from myself  
I really wished I could have saved you**

And all eyes shot across to the young Brit who had joined them, "It was actually your mother's willingness to _sacrifice herself_ for Ava, which made her the key to all of Rambaldi's work. Because in that moment, she became the only person whom Irina Derevko had ever truly been willing to give her life and _soul_ for – and _that_ was why he killed her."

"Mars", Jack said, doing nothing to hide the suspicion in his voice, "What are you doing here?"

"We've come to take what we're owed, Jack", the younger man merely replied.

And then a cold smile crept across his face as he pointed his gun directly in front of him, and said, "We've come for him."

**I'll never forget you  
I'll never forget you  
I'll never forget you  
I'll never forget you**

**I really wished I could have saved you  
I really wished I could have saved you  
I really wished I could have saved you  
I really wished I could have saved you**

* * *

Song: 'Ballad For Dead Friends' by Dashboard Prophets

A/N: Ok so I know the whole Rambaldi, killing Avalon thing was _completely_ AU, but I wrote it before the finale, an just didn't change it – so it stays – also I hadn't really seen much of S5 when I wrote it, hence all the wrong info, an why I kept putting 'supposed to' to show how they _used_ ta think that stuff – plus this is meant ta be set in S4, so yeah…

Thanks for reading, and please leave a review - even a wee one! - it means a lot.  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	13. Kryptonite

Chapter Thirteen – Kryptonite

"**It is written in the Book of Joel that there will be a reckoning when the men who committed this cowardly act will be called forward by He who sits in judgement. A day when all that is hidden will appear, and no sins of man will go unpunished. On this day, the sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood. On this day, even the just shall tremble." – Four Brothers**

He was currently chained to the roof, acting as entertainment and 'therapy' for Sark, who had a whole table of torture instruments lined up before him. His problem wasn't that he didn't know _how_ to make him suffer – he did, and he knew how to do it well – it was the fact that there was _so much_ choice available to him and he wasn't sure how to exactly proceed with it _all_. And so, in the end, he simply decided to give James a taste of everything – that way he knew he was inflicting the right amount of pain, making him suffer justifiably, yet still leaving room for more if he felt need be.

Sark had already spent a considerable amount of time in there, before they arrived, listening almost giddily to the screams of his former friend as he cut patterns into his skin.

After all, he was an artist and now the flesh had become his canvas.

**I took a walk around the world to  
Ease my troubled mind  
I left my body laying somewhere  
In the sands of time  
I watched the world float to the dark  
Side of the moon  
I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah  
**

He picked up a dagger then and appeared to be inspecting it as it glinted in the sinister light, and without even turning, he asked in a clipped, amused tone, "Tell me Arvin, are you enjoying the show?"

And he spun round to face them, the weapon now resting comfortably in the palm of his hand by his side, as he cocked his head to the side and eyed the other man carefully.

"You've aged considerably since our last encounter, Arvin", Sark told him, clearly entertained, "Has work been getting to you?"

"You killed a lot of people, Sark. Why, just a short while ago I received word that you'd killed not only Sergei Dakori, but his brother Boris also. That's enough to worry any man in this business, wouldn't you agree?" Sloane replied.

Sark merely shrugged in response, and Sloane cleared his throat, "Well, it certainly worried a lot of people, Julian."

And Sark's eyes flared suddenly at the use of his given name, but he didn't make any move as Sloane continued, "We could have helped you, you know? We even tried to find you – "

But Sark cut him off there, with a smug smirk placed firmly on his face, as he told the elder man, "Is that so, Arvin? Well, as you can see, here I am."

And he held out his arms dramatically to accompany the statement, before saying, "If you _really_ wanted to contact me though, all you had to do was say 'please'."

And he looked past Sloane at the man that stood behind him then, as he added, "Isn't that right, Jack?"

It seemed tonight was the night old friendships were broken, and new alliances forged.

"Jack?" Sloane breathed out in slight disbelief as the figure emerged from the shadows.

And suddenly in one swift move, the knife had left Sark's hand and lodged itself securely in Sloane's shoulder, the elder letting out a cry of pain and shock as he clutched feebly at the weapon.

The blonde sent him a smirk and crossed the floor as he told him, "No. Sark. Please try to keep up, Arvin."

"I'm running the show here. Not Jack – and you would do well to remember that", Sark said then, before plunging another knife into the older man's abdomen.

**I watched the world float to the  
Dark side of the moon  
After all I knew it had to be something  
To do with you  
I really don't mind what happens now and then  
As long as you'll be my friend at the end**

"Were you part of it all along, Jack?" Sloane wheezed, as he hung limply from the ceiling across from the young British-Intelligence Agent.

His hands and feet were tied together and his body hoisted up in the air with thick metal chains that clinked together loudly everytime he moved, and the clear plastic bounds restraining him dug deeply and painfully into his wrists whenever he tried to struggle – which he had been doing quite a bit of.

"I'm merely here for the entertainment, Arvin", he replied, "Sark can do whatever he likes to you, I don't particularly care. As far as I'm concerned you deserve whatever you get, and I'm just here to watch you get it."

"I see … " Sloane answered, pulling himself up slightly, and trying to wriggle his arms around to free himself from his fastenings, "And what about you … Mars, what're you here for? To watch me being tortured by Sark, like Jack?"

Mars smirked, "I'm here add to a bit of variety into the mix for little Jamie-boy over there – you're just a bonus as far as I'm concerned."

Sloane nodded, pretending to mull over each answer in his mind, when instead he was actually working further on releasing his hands from the plastic strips that bound them – his feet could wait for the moment – the blood was trickling down his arms and he was fast starting to lose feeling in his fingers, which, he suspected, he'd be needing if he was going to shoot that Bastard Sark.

Straight through the heart ought to be good enough, he thought – and symbolic too – dying the same way that bitch of a daughter of his did. Yes, a bullet through the heart would suffice indeed.

**If I go crazy then will you still  
Call me Superman  
If I'm alive and well, will you be  
There holding my hand  
I'll keep you by my side with  
My superhuman might  
Kryptonite  
**

"The great thing about these sort of restraints, Arvin", Sark's voice came back to join them, "Is that the more you struggle, the tighter they become."

And he picked up a hot metal skewer then, and thrust it into his side, watching with sick pleasure as it poked through the other side and elicited a groan and a gasp from the older man.

"Wonder who invented them?" Sark pondered out loud, "Probably the Americans – they're always doing stupid things like that."

And at that, he wrenched the pole across with both hands so it cut straight through everything to its right, and sliced open Sloane's abdomen in plain view of everyone.

Jack's head turned to the side, his face impassive, and his stance relaxed; as if the whole situation bored him, and the screams from his former friend and colleague were simply annoying background noises he was being forced to endure – which, in fact, they sort of were.

Sloane soon passed out from the pain, and the blood loss he sustained, and Sark found no _real_ pleasure in torturing him immensely when he wasn't awake to taunt. Though he did take the opportunity to chop off Sloane's right ear – making sure the cut was rough and ragged, and painfully sore also – and he was looking forward to seeing the reaction of the man before he gauged his eye out to match.

And so, he went back to work on James. The man was already a mess, but that didn't mean Sark couldn't inflict _more_ pain – after all, it was what was underneath that counted.

It was Mars' turn now though, and he had plenty of tricks up his sleeve for this one.

He picked up the object from the counter in the kitchen, and walked over to the restrained man, weighing it up between his hands, with a satisfied smirk on his face.

Mars held up the hammer as he stood before James, and with a quick glance behind him, awaited Sark's approval to continue, which he got with a swift nod of the head as the blonde casually wiped his hands of the blood with a white hankerchief; the imagery he was creating not lost on either man.

"Got anything to say, Jamie-boy?" Mars' asked him then.

The Agent smiled widely around bloody teeth, before replying, "This little piggy went to market."

Mars' immediately recognised the similarity of this situation with that of a scene from the movie 'Payback', and decided he'd have some fun changing it about a little, and he smirked, as he chided him, "This if real life, Jamie – we don't live in Hollywood."

And at that, he brought the tool down heavily on the Agent's right kneecap, and hooted gleefully as he heard the bone crunch and watched the limb sag significantly beneath the Brit's weight.

"Now _that_ is how they should've done it", Mars told him with a grin.

He tried to haul himself upright once more – especially since the chains were cutting even further into his wrists, allowing the river of red to flow more freely down his arms.

"What's that you're trying to do there, Jamie-boy?" Mars questioned then.

And before James' knew what was happening, Mars had placed his hands firmly on each one of his shoulders and shoved him down – hard. He heard the bones before he even felt them; as they popped from the sockets, and intense pain suddenly flared inside his arms.

"You never were good at that Boy-Scout, always be prepared, stuff", Mars told him amusedly.

And then another figure joined them, just as Sloane began to gain consciousness once again.

Sark walked over to the elder man, as Mars took a seat on a high-stool, lounging against the counter nearby, watching casually now from the side – after leaving James moaning and groaning in pain.

He picked up another sharp and shiny looking metal instrument from the side table, and one that looked suspiciously like a _corkscrew_, before turning towards Sloane's position.

**You called me strong, you called me weak  
But your secrets I will keep  
You took for granted all the times I  
Never let you down  
You stumbled in and bumped your head, if  
Not for me then you would be dead  
I picked you up and put you back  
On solid ground**

Catching sight of the other figure near the back, the blonde laughed outright, saying, "And the hero comes to the rescue, how predictable."

"I'm not here to rescue anyone Sark", came the none-too-amused reply.

A smirk played across his features, as he asked, "Come to join in the fun then, Sydney?"

She stepped forward, glaring at him, though it was unclear whether the revulsion in her voice was for his actions or the man who was about to endure them, as she told him through gritted teeth, "You're sick."

"Oh come on", Sark answered with a wide smirk, "But you and I are destined to work together."

"Sark, you're a psychopath", Sydney said seriously in return.

"Well, there's one in all of us … I just let mine out", he answered her simply.

And without another word, Sark spun on his heel and stabbed the twisted metal into Sloane's right eye, ignoring the man's screams of agony as he continued to twist and turn the object, before placing the sharp silver flat against his cheek, and sliding it swiftly under his eyeball. After a few moments, pierced with continuous shrieks of pain from Sloane, he finally yanked the corkscrew out and stood back holding up the object in his hand – tatty, bloodied eyeball and all – with a triumphant look on his face.

Clearly entertained by it all, Mars watched the older man with a smirk as he said, "I hope you're not rightly-orientated, Arvin, because you made need to revisit the importance of using your left side more often now"

And suddenly it seemed to click with Sloane that the pain in the right side of his head was not simply from being hit one too many times – Sark had taken his ear too.

**If I go crazy then will you still  
Call me Superman  
If I'm alive and well will you be  
There holding my hand  
I'll keep you by my side with my  
Superhuman might  
Kryptonite**

"I'll kill you", he told the blonde, "I'll kill you, Sark. Look what you've done to me!"

"I know, isn't it great?!" Mars' voice answered him as he grinned laughingly at Sloane, who glared at him, grinding his teeth.

"I'll kill you, Sark", Sloane repeated, before thrashing his head around wildly, as he added, "I'll kill you all!"

"Now Arvin, we all know you're not going to kill me, or the rest of us for that matter, you're not going to live long enough for that", Sark told him amusedly, flashing him a smug smirk, as Sloane fumed silently.

"When will you learn", the blonde said to him coldly, "You can't beat me, Arvin – no one can."

"Everyman has his price, every man has a weakness", Sloane told him in response, "There is always a way to defeat a man – you're still a mere mortal after all."

Sark laughed mirthlessly then, "Indeed. But don't you see, Arvin, nothing you can do to me will ever be enough."

And a sudden evident power appeared in his eyes then, and a smirk spread widely across his face as he said, "I'm the new and improved Superman, Arvin – not even Kryptonite can stop me now."

Sark winked at him mockingly, as he emphasised, "New and improved, and the 'Super' is there for a reason."

He leant forwards then and whispered chillingly in his ear, "You were right to fear me, Arvin. The world is lying at my feet – and to think, all it took was a killing spree."

"See you in Hell", he finished, pulling back, and looking Sloane straight in the eyes.

And at that Mars quickly flexed his leg, and in one swift move kicked over the small stool holding the older man upright. Together they watched coldly as Arvin Sloane's body swung back-and-forth, his hands grasping wildly at the chain tightly bound round his neck, and his mouth opened wide desperately trying to get more oxygen into his lungs than was currently being allowed. And then, he stopped. Just … stopped. There was no great fanfare, no celebratory firework display, no fight to the death involving a huge exchange of gunfire and bullets – he just … ran out of breath.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You were in such a hurry to mutilate your soul with all this killing, you've never once paused to realise the incomparable power of a soul that's untarnished and whole", James' rasping voice broke through the eerie silence.

"Is that so, Jamie?" Sark questioned, before telling him, "I may have lost a few meaningless parts of my soul along the way to where I am now, but despite nearly being killed numerous times, _I'm_ still here. _I'm_ still alive."

"Can you say the same for _big, bad, Arvin Sloane_ over there?" Mars' added in then, mockingly.

"Some things are worse than death", James told them adamantly, refusing to believe this was really the end.

_His loss, _Sark quickly rationalised, and with a quick flash of a smirk at the end, he answered instantly, "Then I suppose you won't mind me murdering you."

**If I go crazy then will you still  
Call me Superman  
If I'm alive and well will you be  
There holding my hand  
I'll keep you by my side with my  
Superhuman might  
Kryptonite**

He had no time for him now, and asked dismissively, "Any last words?"

James' face was paler than usual, maybe it was from the blood loss, or maybe it was from the weariness that accompanied being strung up with chains to a ceiling and tortured continually, but it suited him – he shouldn't die looking well, or happy – and yet he actually went and smiled at Sark in return to his question.

But it wasn't pleasant, and it wasn't victorious. It was … passive defeat.

And that was why Sark merely tolerated it – allowed it because he knew the meaning behind it, though he didn't at all like it, no matter what the reasoning.

"Irina would be proud", James said resignedly, looking the blonde dead in the eyes, before the smile finally dropped.

"It's Derevko to you", Sark told him, always having enjoyed the power-trip that came with being able to refer to their 'boss' by her given name – even after all these years.

He smirked, shaking his head, as he added, "And she wouldn't … but I am."

And with that, Sark quickly extended his arm and fired a single shot into the head of one of his oldest 'friends'.

Blood and brain matter splattered all around, and he lowered his head for a moment then, before saying simply, "Mars, it's time to bury her."

And Sark looked round at his friend then, telling him, "It's time to bury Ava."

And Mars could do nothing but nod in sad, silent, agreement.

**If I go crazy then will you still  
Call me Superman  
If I'm alive and well will you be  
There holding my hand  
I'll keep you by my side with my  
Superhuman might  
Kryptonite**

* * *

Song: 'Kryptonite' by 3 Doors Down (But I think I added in an extra repeat of the chorus at the end, oh well :shrug: )  
Quotes: "And the hero comes to the rescue, how predictable." – Altered version from Smallville.  
"Sark, you're a psychopath." "Well, there's one in all of us…I just let mine out." – Slightly altered version from Smallville. 

Thanks for reading, hopefully have the last chap up tomorrow and then the start of the sequel the following day.  
Please let me know what you think of it - it means a lot!  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	14. Even Angels Fall

Chapter Fourteen – Even Angels Fall

**I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain. – James Baldwin**

Sark stood before the mirror in 'his' bathroom, his hands curled round the edges of the sink, and his hands bracing him as he swayed forward slightly; his eyes searching for some meaning behind the reflection that stared back at him.

A million questions zipped through his head, images flashed by, and notable quotes and passages he'd heard or read over the years began to spring up.

Who was he now?

Julian Lazarey? Julian Tsarkovsky? Julian _Sark_?

Was he even Julian at all anymore?

Had he returned to _Mr_. Sark? Or was Sark simply enough?

Or was it that he was defined by what he had done, not who he was underneath?

So what did that make him?

Terrorist? Murderer? Extortionist? Thief?

Brother to a murdered sister?  
_Leaving his only blood relative, his daughter – that didn't last long._

Husband to a murdered wife?  
_The true love of his life – who said people like him couldn't love?  
__They were a breed, people like him, well not people like **him**, but people who based their lives around him: trying to catch him, to fight him, to kill him; trying to work 'with' him, to fight beside him, to kill alongside him – he and Eden had been two of a kind.  
__Who said people like him couldn't love?_

Father to **two** murdered children?  
_As if one hadn't been enough._

In your insanity, even your own name has escaped you.

The quote was from a phase past, the exact origin of it pushed so far back in his mind that he could no longer bring it to the forefront, but he challenged its words, its meaning, its connection to him – he knew exactly who he was.

He _had_ been and would continue _to_ be: Sark – forever and always.

Julian was merely there to remind him of a time long gone – one he was never going to get back now, so why should he even bother pretending he was?

**You've found hope****  
****You've found faith,****  
****Found how fast she could take it away.****  
****Found true love,****  
****Lost your heart.****  
****Now you don't know who you are.**

He had heard from Mars that Jack had organised a small 'funeral' – of sorts anyway – for Irina, and she was buried, properly this time, where her original grave was. And although only a very small number were present – given that she wasn't exactly the most popular person among Sydney and her friends – her last actions had been honoured with large bouquets of flowers marking the sacrifice she'd laid down for the young child she felt so much for; now also dead. Mars told him it had been " … nice", and had been a funeral fit for Irina – if there could ever really be such a thing – and possibly even one she'd have agreed with.

He didn't attend.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He turned the chrome tap, the moisture glazing over his palm, and leaned down to cup the cool water between his hands, bringing it up to splash over his face. His eyes looked up again to stare at the face that mimicked his actions. With a low growl, he turned away, and grabbing a towel from the side of the counter, he walked out of the bathroom, rubbing angrily at his face.

With a sudden impatient annoyance that seemed to have crept up on him in the short time previously, he threw the stained material onto the large expanse of the bed, which was occupying the bedroom, before grabbing a few items from the counter on the way out, and slamming the door on his exit.

He watched from the shadow cast by the tree above as the priest spoke words of supposed comfort. He needn't have bothered; the only one attending in need of comfort was Mars.

The young man stood on one side of the open grave, alone. While a small 'host' of people occupied the other. The tall solemn stature of the priest marked the separation of the two – through more than just their positions.

Jack was there, which he'd expected, but what he didn't predict was for the man's daughter to be standing next to him – though, he supposed, it made sense given Sydney Bristow's inert moral code and unwavering 'goodness'. To be honest it was sort of sickening how righteous she was at times. This, unsurprisingly, wasn't one of those times, however.

Michael Vaughn stood behind her, no doubt because wherever she went he, undoubtedly, had to follow. Now _that_ was sickening. Not to mention the nerve of the man showing up to his daughter's funeral – Sark was tempted to shoot him just for even thinking about it, never mind actually going through with it. At least Bristow was able to put her appearance down to her character, he thought, that Bloody git had no such excuse – he was just along to keep an eye on her.

And for a split second, Sark thought he could take immense pleasure in giving Vaughn a little show to watch – until he remembered why he was here, at the same time as them, and all other thoughts seemed to diminish beneath the weight of grief that suddenly plagued him.

Clearly Mars was having the same venomous thoughts, because Sark caught the older man's quick glance to the green-eyed giant (as Avalon had once cleverly nicknamed him) and saw the hatred flash vividly and suddenly in his blue orbs.

Marshall Flinkman had attended, along with his wife – whom Sark recognised from a couple of the profile's he had of her husband, as well as a few of the woman herself – no doubt out of some form of twisted courtesy or repayment for the 'company' Sark gave him during his 2 year incarceration at the CIA, or possibly simply, like Sydney, in some sort of 'moral obligation' they felt they owed his daughter, being parents themselves, and the only ones besides Jack and himself in attendance.

Their presence didn't bother him much; Marshall had always been, although somewhat eccentric and seemingly slightly autistic in some of his mannerisms … friendly towards him – generally anyway; and neither did the turnout of Eric Weiss. He was clearly there for Sydney also; though he saw the genuine sorrow in his eyes at the act he was attending the funeral of a child – and no doubt because of her parentage also.

She was another innocent victim … but then again, wasn't he, once upon a time?

Sark saw it in the eyes of the Agents' that day; the pity they felt for her. They were mourning the death of a child, so was he, but they were mourning her loss in an altogether different way from him. They grieved as spectators, as if they had simply been waiting for this to happen, as if the result was inevitable; as if she was doomed since the day she had been born; which, he supposed, she sort of was.

But weren't they all?

**She made it easy,**  
**Made it free,**  
**Made you hurt till you couldn't see.**  
**Sometimes it stops,**  
**Sometimes it flows,**  
**But baby that is how love goes.**

As the priest finished, and the small white casket began to disappear further and further into the dark hole in the earth, the Heavens seemed to open and suddenly they were being drenched in a torrential downpour. He grinned, despite himself, and watched Mars do the same, both men turning their heads to the sky, knowingly.

Avalon.

After a while, there was only Mars and Jack left. The elder stood back from the recently disturbed ground, his eyes cutting straight through the marble angel that towered over her resting place; while the younger was right before it, head bowed and seeming to be in deep thought.

A short while later, Mars raised his head, the beads of water that had accumulated in his hair during his time in the rain sent flying in all directions with the jerky movement, and he turned round. He gave Jack a small nod in acknowledgement and then he was gone.

The blue-eyed Brit, with that intriguing twang of New-York enveloping aspects of his language and dialogue; the closest thing Julian Sark ever had to a friend when he was a child, and now the closest he had to family as an adult; gave one last glance to the stone commemorating the life of the little girl he'd watched grow for eight years since her birth; before he walked out of the cemetery.

_And out of our lives_, Jack thought to himself momentarily.

**  
**

When Jack left a few minutes after his friend, Sark finally made his way out from under the dark of the large oak. His steps were tentative, though he knew exactly what lay ahead, and when he reached the soft wet mound in front of the white marble statue, his legs crumpled beneath him, and he dropped instantly to his knees.

The dampness immediately began to sink in through the thin material of his suit trousers – already ruined by the rain – but he didn't care. How could he really care about anything now? His daughter had been murdered; his only blood relative left killed; his last remaining link to his wife gone.

And all because of Anna Espinosa.

Suddenly Sark felt she hadn't suffered enough for what she'd done – she'd gotten off lightly really – and he was starting to think the others had too. He appeared to be the only one doing any sort of suffering, and it didn't seem fair – but then, nothing about the past while had been fair, but it had happened all the same.

His hand reached out and he began to trace the gold lettering on the cold stone.

**Avalon Reagan Tsarkovsky  
**

_**25th June 1997 – 17th September 2005**_

_**Treasured daughter and friend.**_

_**Rest Now Where The Angels Soar, Where You Truly Belong; With Paradise.  
**_

**Ангел никогда не умирает, только спит**

_**An angel never dies; just sleeps.  
**_

He wondered if anyone else, besides himself and Mars, would catch the hidden meaning in the centre message.

'With Paradise'

Eden.

Avalon _belonged_ with Eden.

It was as if she'd only 'allowed' him to look after Avalon for a short while, before bringing their daughter back to her rightful place by her side; by her twin brother's side. He supposed he couldn't really argue with that – when his child had finally been reunited with her mother and 'other half'. That didn't make it any easier though, and he only wished he could be with them too.

**You will fly and you will crawl;**  
**God knows even angels fall.**  
**No such thing as you lost it all.**  
**God knows even angels fall.**

"I could have saved her", he breathed out, his palm resting on the cool marble and his head bowed.

They were simple words that Jack feared could break his heart.

Laughter suddenly rang through his ears. Happy, playful, that of a child. Avalon's.

But before he even had time to dwell on it, it was cut short – just like her life – and he noted the twisted irony.

Both his hands were suddenly on the headstone then, grasping at it, as dry sobs caught in his throat, and his shoulders shuddered. It was the last piece he had of her. A cold, white, piece of marble. And he hated that.

"Why did you have to go? How could you just leave me like that?" he choked out, and felt the anger flare up inside him again as he let loose a blood-curling scream, that continued until he felt his throat go raw.

And he didn't even notice then, that the tears had started to cascade down his face; didn't know that all his defences were slowly crumbling … until they were gone.

**It's a secret no one tells;**  
**One day it's heaven, one day it's hell.**  
**It's no fairy tale;**  
**Take it from me,**  
**That's the way it's supposed to be.**

Jack had seen him during the service as he stood, concealed in the shadows of the old tree. But what he saw then would be forever imprinted in his mind. His eyes; the bright blue orbs that used to sparkle mischievously as he bantered, or shine smugly as he gained the upper hand against you, or even glint devilishly before he shot you; the eyes that had so often peered coldly over the barrel of a gun before it was fired, now looked … dead.

There was no fire left in them – him – no soul. Survival of the fittest had kept him standing amongst them, but inside he was almost as dead as the corpse of his child in the damp ground.

_Maybe no one can live the way we do without killing a part of themselves_, Jack mused then, and felt he could empathise with such a statement, and easily find the truth within it himself.

She was his strength. And now she was gone, he had nothing – and no one – to keep him going.

**You will fly and you will crawl;**  
**God knows even angels fall.**  
**No such thing as you lost it all.**  
**God knows even angels fall.**

The tears began to fall faster, as he continued to claw at the stone, and Sark didn't seem to have the energy to stop them. He hated himself for it; he'd always been taught it was a weakness that had to be overcome, but his heart had just … given up.

And if she wasn't a good enough reason to cry, what was?

Awkwardly, and a little hesitantly, Jack came closer and touched the younger man's shoulder, and when he didn't pull away or strike out; he reached out and pulled him towards him.

Sark raised himself up a little, as Jack's arms encircled him tentatively at first and then tightly as the moments passed between them, and sobs racked his body.

Neither was particularly 'keen' on physical contact, but they both needed each other – they'd both lost someone close to their heart, possibly even more than one – and right then, all they really had was each other.

And as Sark collapsed to the ground, sobbing, Jack fell to his knees with him.

**You laugh, you cry, no one knows why****  
****Behold the thrill of it all...****  
****You're on the ride****  
****You might as well****  
****Open your eyes**

Death divides, and death unites; and the sky cried the blackest tears that night.

He used to be strong, hard, cold … unbreakable.

But that had changed. Now all he could feel was pain. Now he was forever consumed by guilt and anger.

Now he had been defeated.

The little of the heart he had left just … broke; and he could practically hear the shattered pieces as they hit the ground.

It was all finally over.

**You will fly and you will crawl;  
God knows even angels fall.  
No such thing as you lost it all.  
God knows even angels fall.  
Even angels fall  
Even angels fall**

**_The End._**

* * *

Song: 'Even Angels Fall' by Jewel (Ft. Sarah McLaughlin)

Thank you all SOOOOOO much for reading and reviewing this fic – all your feedback means so much to me!  
I originally started this thinking it would only be about 3 or 4 chapters long, turns out it ended at 14. I started it thinking I'd finish it by the end of that week, I completed it months later.  
This fic didn't start, or end, the way I'd initially anticipated, but I like it, and I hope many of you do too!  
Once more Thank-You for all your comments, encouragement, and general great 'reader-ship' – hopefully you'll join me with the sequel Angels Of Heaven And Earth (when it's posted) and we can start this fun ride all over again! ;)

Thanks  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


End file.
